


In the Beginning, There was Balance...

by Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper



Series: Balance of the Supernatural [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (need a vote), CJ's Antics, Debauchary, Depression, Dogs, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Gabriel's Antics, Gen, Headaches, Lemons(maybe), Like really slow, Lime, Lots of Paula Deen Jokes, Lucifer's Attitude, M/M, Multi, Other, PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 82
Words: 205,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper/pseuds/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper
Summary: She'd woken up on the side of a road with only the clothes on her back and the seventeen dollars she'd saved for her breakfast on the way to school the next morning.Picked up first by cops, who grill her on her name, a ridiculous name, she admits, and will be the first outright to say so.So ridiculous that, along with her situation, that they deem her immediately crazy.2004 was a sucky year.So were 05', 06', and 07'.Now it's 08' and she's absolutely sick of it.The constant, weird phantom pains, the shitty nightmares.The Episodes of Supernatural on Repeat behind her eyes every time she fell asleep were the only repreive of the dull, aching routine she'd been slapped with.Over and Over..Night after night..Until she has enough.





	1. First Impressions

She didn’t know how many days she’d been there, exactly. The mental ward was monotonous, and average, with only the few daily breakdowns of resident’s to cut into the routine. She’d been there for few years, at least. Of that she was sure. And what she could remember about that day had been something she was never going to be able to forget.

She’d been sitting in her room that day, laptop open as she streamed her favorite television show. She was ogling the gorgeous features of Mark Pellegrino, Jared Padalecki and lusting over how perfect Jensen Ackles mouth was.

It really is unfair how unearthly that man’s beauty actually is.

“CJ, it’s time for your meds.”

The orderly’s bright, peppy voice cut through her thoughts, and the young adult blinked slowly out of her doze to see the mocha-skinned nineteen-year-old place a tray on the table beside her door, giving her a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like veal.” Her muttered response was thick with sarcasm, and she barely flicked her hazel eyes to the door before returning them to the ceiling, “Thanks Lucas.”

“Please eat, this time,” the orderly requested quietly, shooting her a briefly disapproving look when he caught sight of her thin, bony wrists in her baggy hospital-grade smock, practically swimming in the smallest size they offered.

She’d been brought to the middle of nowhere just shy of 2005, much to her absolute confusion. Waking up in a pile of burnt trees and upturned dirt in a giant hole. She spoke with countless police officers, on why her records were never shown, why her fingerprints were not in the system, and why she seemed to think it was over twelve years past the current date.

She was placed promptly in a mental institution, eighteen years old and over ten years behind the real date, she wasn’t able to understand just exactly what had happened.

Except, when she was asleep, she was.

Her dreams, vivid to the point of near tangibility kept her sane. At first, she dismissed them as just that, extraordinarily vivid dreams. Episodes of Supernatural that she would cling to to remind herself that it could be a Hell of a lot worse. Remind herself that as soon as she turned sane by their records, she was free to check out.

And every night she would pray.

At first, in her old world, she had done it jokingly. She had been watching the series almost religiously after homework and getting home from work. She knew about Azazel, Meg, Ruby, Lucifer, Michael (The dick, she would never like him), The mark of Cain, the darkness, all of it. She prayed to Lucifer, to Gabriel, to Balthazar, but she didn’t pray to Castiel. That seemed like something she didn’t want to do; like it was something she needed to earn, as weird as that was.

And through all of this, every time she fell asleep, she would relive each and every episode over and over, details and dialogue searing into her brain until she was muttering jokes and references under her breath throughout the day and itching to use her salt shaker to line her single barred window.

It was stupid, and yet..

With each passing day, she grew more and more restless, and even more tired. Sometimes, she would fall asleep directly into her desk, or even in the common room while she was playing a board game with some of the other residents.

And then, she felt it, something dark, and sharp, feeling like it was tearing at her skin and organs, clawing and scraping. She hadn’t made a sound, her silent scream caught in her throat as she hit the floor of her bedroom, almost thankful her door had been closed for all but a crack. She lied there, on her side, for what felt like hours, unwilling to have visions, and unable to keep herself from sleeping, and the sudden, excruciating pain had hit thrice fold.

She left the hospital the next day.

* * *

She stared blankly down at the freshly-packed earth of the small clearing, a ratty, worn strap of a leather bag clenched tightly between her fingers as she eyed the crude cross stuck in place to mark the grave.

There were dried boot prints. Someone had been there, recently, but there was no sign to see if they were coming back or not.

She knew this place, the headache proved enough. Her three hundred mile hitchhike proved something when she aimlessly wandered.

She had found Dean Winchester’s grave.

She felt torn between crying, or screaming. She wanted to pull out her hair, pound her fists to the ground. She want to stomp her feet and curse the skies.

She was twenty-two now, almost twenty three.

Falling to her rear, she leaned back into the grass, closing her eyes as she inhaled slowly, and let all of her irritation seep out.

What was she doing here?

Her body didn’t want to move, like it was commanding she watch it. Pay attention to the unmoving, nearly dead grass in front of the grave.

The dates were off, and there was no way she was going to sit there for another three and a half months.

Not without something to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me the incentive to write more. :P


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of many steps on this ridiculous, impossible journey...

She pitched her tent just outside the blast-range Castiel would create when he would bring the righteous man from Hell. And every night she prayed. She would pray to Lucifer, apologies, mostly, and often, when she could only feel her gut churning with displeasure and guilt; singing, soft melodies and songs that she had heard in her world. Trying her best to make Hell just a bit more bearable for a while.

The first time she’d managed to pry herself away from the grave had been the first of only nine trips. 

She’d done as many things on her list in eight hours that she could manage.

She’d swindled a motorcycle (much to her chagrin), and gotten new plates.

She’d gotten an anti-possession tattoo, in the form of a decorative tramp-stamp on her lower back. With the money she’d nicked from swindling poker-games and pool, she’d gotten several more tattoos. The warding Castiel had gotten when he’d become human, trailing in a rope around her left ankle. Her right ankle held a few other symbols, mostly magical ones, and the horn of Gabriel, something she was sure she was going to need at least once.

She pitched a tent in the area she’d chosen for the three months, looking over the notebooks she’d filled with every detail she could possibly manage after her dreams. She’d bought a heavy-duty duffel bag, and purchased hunter-clothes, as well as trying to determine the tells of hunter-catering establishments for things like spell ingredients.

That had been the last time she’d left the grave for more than eight hours.

When she’d gotten back, she’d felt such a painful pulling sensation she only managed to knock herself out at the opening of her tent.

It rang in her head that morning. As clear as a siren.

_ Dean Winchester is saved. _

She didn’t know how she could understand it. The odd language sounding like butchered greek, ringing in a pitch higher than anything conceivable, but it was clear and smooth as she repeated it on her tongue.

She lied in that tent for hours, only getting up once she felt the pull completely disappear, and a lingering sense of completion flood her chest.

A snapping was heard a ways away, and, as she carefully poked her head out of the zipper, taking in the two and a half feet of grass that would have been the difference between her campsite and a pile of ash, she managed to catch sight of the grave being pawed at from below. Quickly scrambling to get out of her tent, she snatched the shovel from its place beside the door, bolting for the grave and immediately shucking the dirt out of the way. She could hear quite, yet hoarse screams from beneath her, and when she had seen the hand break surface she had lunged for it and pulled. The dirt, after her many times of loosening it after rainstorms or hot days, fell away with ease, and she had to use all of her weight to get his shoulder, then his head, above ground. Now with a more stable grip, as he was clutching her arm, too, he scrambled to get out until he was finally up, while the woman promptly fell back with the shift in weight.

With over a hundred pounds of male crushing her to the ground, she managed to roll him off with the last of her energy and fall onto her back with a dry cough. 

Both humans lied there, gasping and wheezing, for several long minutes, before the blonde haired man had managed to push himself up onto his elbows, and turned to look at the woman beside him.

She was pretty, in a delicate sort of way, but the scar on her cheekbone, directly below her left eye, said something else about that. She was dressed in a light grey tank top, with a dark blue flannel over it, a pair of ragged, dark jeans with torn knees and sturdy grey boots. A leather pouch was strapped to her right thigh, and an old bag lied limply on the ground next to her, looking just a few pounds short of falling apart. She was dressed like a hunter.

Her pale nails were chipped, and filled with dirt, probably from the frantic digging, and her messy, long brown hair looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

“Are you alright?”

Despite him being the first to sit up, covered in sweat and breathing now close to normal-ish, she had been the first to speak. She had turned a pair of small, greenish hazel eyes up to him, a frown tugging at her mouth as she tried to sit up. She managed, after a few seconds, and rummaged around in her back pocket, before pulling out a small flask. She held it out to him calmly, letting him silently stare at the engraved, biblical designs, before taking it, and uncapping the lid. He drank the water fast enough to warrant a cough, and he felt the small, soft hands rubbing his back before he had heard her move. He was dazed, and rightfully so, so when she was maneuvering herself behind him and helping him stumble to his feet toward a now obvious campsite almost inches from the blast range, he felt justified in his numb shock. 

“There’s a store, just up the road awhile,” her voice was quiet, and careful, and he managed a slight nod when she hurried toward the tent and pulled out a thick, dark grey duffle bag. She left the tent standing, after pulling out a gas can and dousing it, lighting a match to set the camp ablaze before returning to his side, and grasping his hand to lead him toward the less-destroyed line of brush.

She managed to get him to sit awkwardly on the back of the seat, shoving her duffel in the sidecar of the 1954 BMW bike. She had a feeling the guy she stole it from, (well,  _ stole  _ was a strong word, he really shouldn’t have bet his ride in a drunken game of poker), wasn’t too happy about losing the beautiful machine, but she was far from complaining when she’d managed to get everything packed and settled before handing the helmet to the blonde.

“Safety first.”

* * *

 

“So, what’s your name,” the question broke the near twenty-five minute silence between the two adults when the male had spoken up, half-way finished with a water-bottle and his third energy bar. She was tinkering around with the cheap, plastic keychains on the counter. She glanced up from the small fob she was inspecting to meet his pale green eyes, her chapped lips pressed tightly together when he raised an eyebrow in question, “I don’t think I can keep calling you “Motorcycle-girl” in my head.”

“Eat,” she stated instead, turning back to her task with focussed, eyes, “My name isn’t important.” “It damn well is,” his voice was raspy with disuse and dryness. 

“Go wash your face, you’re filthy, then we’ll talk,” she gave the order at a softer volume as she lifted a chain to inspect it’s design. 

* * *

“What in the Hell is this-?!” His demand was sharp, and he had come back into the main store from the staff bathroom to see the short woman loading bags with food. Mostly energy bars, but also things like candy or chips. When she looked up at his entrance, he could see the surprise on her face at his lifted sleeve, where he displayed the giant, red mark on his skin.

“Does my hand  _ look  _ that big to you?” the sarcasm in her answer was enough to stun him, not expecting the slight laugh in her voice, but when the melancholy returned to her eyes, and she returned to her bag stuffing, he shook himself out of it and hurried over to her. “What are you doing?”

“Packing food and water for our trip,” was the soft response when she'd gotten to her knees to fill the bag with the entire stock available with hostess pies. He caught himself blinking at her dumbly, before his mouth started working again, “ _ Our _ trip..?”

“I’m not letting you hitchhike,” was her only response, dutifully followed by, “Get the water from the fridge-thing, and some coke, if they have it. A magazine or two, if you want them, it’s going to be a boring ride.”

He was hesitant to do as she said, but, after feeling the dry, aching soreness of his throat, he shook his head, and did as she said. He’d sort out all the details later, and he’d question her on everything as they left. No way was he letting her take him god-knows-where.

“Don’t. _ Touch. _ Their cash box.”

Her sharp, almost annoyed words had his palm halting over the buttons of the machine, she’d instructed him to find entertainment and other things he might need, and, on his way for cash, stopped him cold. “I have enough. We already took food and water, we’re not robbing them blind.”

“How much do you even have?” he grimaced toward the worn, clearly old bag at her hip, but her glare and cleared throat brought his eyes back to her angry ones. “Enough, like I  _ said _ . Now come on. We don’t exactly have a lot of time before-”

A static noise cut their conversation off cold, and the girl looked immediately startled, a curse leaving her lips as she fumbled with her bag and pulled out a clunky pair of headphones.

“Oh shit- put these on- hurry-!”

“What’s going on-?” he was notably tense by the sudden jump from the television, the radio buzzing on soon after, and his muscles coiled as if in preparation of a fight. “Put these on-!” her voice was louder now, authority and fear leaking into her tone as her eyes darted for the windows, “Do you want your ears to bleed-?! Hurry up-!”

The radio had picked up static, and a ringing was starting to echo throughout the store. The girl quaked in her spot, practically throwing the headphones across the aisle toward Dean when he’d moved toward the salt. Her arms covered her head as she crouched down, Dean doing the same just as the windows exploded, glass shooting inwards and coating the floor and stock in glittering crystals.

Ever so slowly, she lowered her arms, grumbling Enochian under her breath as she hissed profanities and used  _ His  _ name in vain in every way that she could.

She would punch Chuck in the face the second that she met him, she didn’t even care anymore.

“You should listen to me when I give you a warning,” her voice was soft again, and she winced when he’d turned his angry eyes to her. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You could have gotten cut by the glass.”

“Who. Are you?” his demand, while met with a moment of silence, did not go unanswered, and when she had met his eyes, her hesitance was gone, and a small, relaxed level of grudging acceptance was in its previous place.

“I’m the girl who gripped you tight and pulled you from that grave, the man who pulled you from perdition is not in league with me.”

“What?” he sounded confused, as well as slightly angry, so she shrugged her shoulders, and glanced pointedly toward her bike, almost breathing a sigh of relief that the headlights and taillights had not burst. “I’m here to help you.”

“How do I know you’re not a demon?” his question was stern and indignant, his hand fisted around the salt container he had leapt for pre-explosion.

“I was carting around holy water, which you happened to drink all of, by the way, and I have salt rounds loaded into the shotgun in my bag. I don’t think demons make a habit of carrying that around.” 

He watched her like a hawk for a few seconds, both of them unmoving and simply eyeing each other down. However, with a simple flick of his wrist, a spray of salt had covered her from her head to her torso. Her eyes pinched shut briefly, but she looked otherwise unmoved, sticking out her tongue to catch the stray crystals on her face before shooting him a look that conveyed how done she was with the conversation. “I prefer salt on my nachos, my fries and in my cottage cheese, please do not make a habit of putting it in my clothes or hair. I hate sand enough as it is, please don't add to my dislike of finely-ground substances.”

“..Where are we going?” he asked after a moment of watching her shake the salt from her hair and clothes, briefly catching his eyes on her figure before shaking himself out of it and addressing the problem, “I’m not going to be carted around god-knows where with you, not knowing anything.”

“We’re going where you choose to go, or have you not been listening,” she spoke up, huffing as she turned to grab the bags that had fallen and stuffing a few magazines into the pile beside what he’d added, rolling her eyes skyward at the sight of Busty Asian Beauties before shoving it deeper inside and slinging it over her shoulder. “Don’t you have someplace to be? A house to return to?”

“...”

He was silent when she managed to push the bag into his chest, giving him a small, serious nod when she stopped in front of him, “That’s what I thought. Now come on, I’m not letting you drive her, but I’d rather you didn’t take anyone’s car. Now, do you want bitch or side-car? I put you in bitch for the drive because I wasn’t sure if you’d manage to get in and out dehydrated, but you seem fine, now.”

He glanced briefly at the rather small, bullet-shaped car attached to the bike, and closed his eyes to hide his eye roll.

“...I’ll take backseat.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yeah.”

“Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

“Who’s  _ me _ ?”

“Dean-!”

The line cut off.

He tried again.

“Who is this?”

“Bobby, listen to me-”

“-This ain’t funny,” the voice cut him off sharply, “call again and I’ll kill ya’.”

The dial tone cut through the cheap, grunge-covered payphone, and Dean stared at it in startled confusion, snapping his eyes out the clear wall to see the female mindlessly sorting through her duffel bag, boredom on her face as she tapped her fingers to a beat he couldn’t hear. She’d told him that, with him being “dead”, it was stupid to call a grieving family. 

“Are you coming?” the mouthed words were the only offered communication she gave him before she’d driven them both in the direction of Sioux Falls.

Dean had tried, repeatedly, to ask her things, but she would rev the engine over his words, ignore him, or pointedly turn up the radio, often when Queen or Kasas came on.

At least he didn’t complain about the music.

When she’d pulled into the scrap yard with a turn of gravel and a grunt of annoyance, she pulled the helmet off of her head quickly and nearly slapped it into the blonde’s chest. He’d been resolutely silent the last half hour of the ride, most likely with nerves, but with those nerves came the hunter’s habits. While holding tightly to her waist the entire length of the ride, his thumbs had rubbed slow, rhythmic circles into the flesh there. Had she not felt how coiled and concerned he was behind her, she would have thought he was doing it on purpose.

“Here’s our stop.”

The green-eyed male blinked quickly as he undid the helmet, letting the black visor flick up so he could briefly examine the house, and taking it off much the same way she had, though his anxiety seemed to have melted. Pure relief. That was all he could feel. He glanced toward the girl, who, rather than mounting her bike to leave, had kicked out her ankles and relaxed against the taut leather, throwing her head back with a loud, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

“Hurry on ahead, I just need a second,” her voice was, as it had mostly been since he’d met her, quiet, and smooth, his jaw working a bit as he glanced at the house, the girl, her bike, and then closed his eyes, making up his mind.

“Alright, come on in when you’re ready, then. I still have questions.”

“So do I,” she turned to give him a small, playful smile, and he could see the watered-down flames of amusement in her flecked eyes, before they were once again hidden by her bangs as she lied back. “I’ll be just a second, Cowboy.”

Dean took a slow, deep breath in, before nodding, and turning to trample up the stairs. He could see a flicker of movement by the curtain, and, after giving the wooden door five, firm knocks, waited only a few seconds before it opened to the gruff, older male that was his father figure; growing up, and now.

“Surprise.” He shrugged a bit, but he was smiling. He was back.

“I-..” Bobby took a step back, face pale as he tried to understand what was in front of him, countless answers, all monster-types, flickering across his eyes as he tried to determine what exactly would kill the imposter in front of him, “I don’t..”

“Yeah, me neither..” the air seemed to settle around him, and not for the first time, he wondered what in the absolute fuck happened to bring him back topside. “But.. here I am..”

Bobby’s fingers inched along the end table behind him, his face carefully blank until he swung forward with the silver blade. Dean ducked under the knife, the knee-jerk reaction to disarm him kicking in as they were pulled into a flurry of limbs. Outside, hearing the muffled sound of struggle, the woman perked up, hazel eyes sharpening as she swung her legs over the side of her bike and turned to jog toward the house.

“Bobby-!” Dean was thrown away from the scuffle, and tossed into the next room and Bobby took a few steps to advance, “Bobby it’s me-!”

“My ass-!” was all the elder hunter was able to manage before a pair of small, lean arms swung up from behind him, locking beneath his shoulders and swinging him sharply to the left. A foot, from his right, swung up sharply, knocking the knife from his hand, while a small, well-placed fist got into his jaw, making him see a bit of white before he stumbled away, his hearing kicking in to hear the Dean look-a-like snapping, “What are you  _ doing _ -?!” “He had a  _ knife _ , Cowboy,” the voice, a woman, from what he could tell, was too quiet to have been stern, but there was an undertone of apology when it echoed again, “And I am sorry for intruding, Sir, but you’ll need to refrain from stabbing this man. I am not quite sure why, but I am deeply compelled to keep him out of harm’s way.”

“Who the Hell are you?” He managed to reach an iron poker just as she managed to pick up the knife, he readied himself for a swing, but when she grabbed it deftly by the blade, and held it back out to him, her expression calm, and her stance relaxed, he hesitated. Never a good thing to do, but for how panicked the look-a-like was and how calm this new woman was, he couldn’t seem to immediately take the first swing. Instincts be damned, she felt harmless.

Didn’t hurt that she was polite, either, despite not answering, and speaking of.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he repeated, “Who the Hell are you?”

“Woah-woah-wait-!” Dean could see the urge the man had to start swinging, so, putting a firm hand on the woman’s shoulder and half-way jerking her to stand behind him, he held out a hand toward the elder male in surrender, “Your name is Robert Steven Singer-! You became a hunter when your wife got possessed-! You’re about the closest thing that I have to a father-!”

The man seemed to calm some, eyeing up the two as if they would sprout tails or horns, thinking over the words.

“Bobby..” Dean’s voice was low, and pleading, as the hunter slowly lowered the knife. “It’s me..”

The man, looking more relieved than anything, shakilly reached out his left hand to the younger male’s shoulder. Seeing him tighten his other fist around the poker, however, the female lunged forward just as Bobby did, bringing up her forearm to smack directly into his and knock the offending weapon away. He was bigger than her, and she was nearly thrown across the room, but stabilizing herself, she managed to throw herself out of the melee and get into a defensive stance just as Dean ducked a swipe from the knife that Bobby had recovered.

“I’m not a shapeshifter-!” He managed to grasp the hunters elbows and hold him from behind, both men now red faced as they tussled. Seeing as the talking was at least on track, the girl gradually eased out of her stance and went deeper into the kitchen. She needed something hard and strong after today.

“Then you’re a revenant-!”

Bobby was thrown across the open space, turning just in time to see the look-a-like brandishing the knife he’d taken hold of. “Alright.. If I was either,” Bobby’s alarm bells flared when the copy pulled up his sleeve, exposing the pale underside of his forearm with a calm, breathless resolution, “Could I do this.. With a silver knife..?” No sooner had he made a decent-sized gash in his arms did the woman’s voice pierce the still air.

“ _ Ah-!  _ I’m not wrapping that, that is technically self-inflicted.” The girl’s voice cut across the sudden silence between the two, and she was seen pouring out two glasses of scotch, one healthy one for the older male, and a smaller one for herself. She rolled her shoulder a bit, trying to dismiss the brief, sharp feeling on her arm, before directing her attention to the men.“I’m not one to point out stupidity, either, but that was just dumb. You could have just pressed the flat side of the blade against your skin and prevented the possible infection. Not to mention he’s already wearing a silver ring..” 

When she had gone quiet, eyeing the wound with disdain, it seemed to snap the men out of their confused trance, putting them right back into action.

“Dean..?”

“I’ve been trying to tell ya’..”

Both men’s voices had run dry, and the woman reclined casually against the counter edge, closing her eyes as she left them to their moment. Simultaneously, they both swooped in for a tight hug, patting each others backs firmly with quiet, breathy laughter. When they’d pulled back after a few, long moments, they met each other’s eyes with a more relaxed, relieved understanding. “It’s good to see ya’, boy,” the elder man whispered, grinning when Dean nodded back with a quiet sniff. Neither would dare admit that they had a tear or two tucked in the corners of their eyes. They didn’t have to. “You, too.”

“How did you bust out?”

The conversation was quiet now, and the woman managed to sigh in relief as she sunk into one of the kitchen chairs in silence, lifting the bottle of jack she’d procured to read the label.

“I don’t know..” Dean turned away for a second, lifting a hand to rub his face as he shook his head, “I..” he turned back to Bobby, just as the man had gotten a hold of an opened silver flask. “I just woke up in a pine bo-”

Water splashed his face, some getting into his mouth and falling down in rivets.

“..Not a demon, either, Bobby.”

“...”

“...”

“Sorry. Can’t be too careful.”

“I like him. Third time’s the charm, Cowboy.”

The water dripped from his face to the floor in small, sad droplets, and he closed his eyes briefly before shooting her a look of slight annoyance, “How about  _ you _ take these tests?”

“How about  _ you  _ clean yourself up? You smell gross. Like muck and sweat.” Her rebuttal was as smooth as the glass of scotch she held out to the elder hunter, raising an eyebrow at his obvious signs of skepticism, “Nice to meet you. I’m CJ. I helped un-bury him from his grave. Also drove him here.”

“So your name is CJ?”

Dean’s irritation was palpable at that point as he rubbed his chin and cheeks with what he could use of his short sleeve. “Why couldn’t you tell me that earlier?” “Because I didn’t want to have to talk to you alone,” she smiled a bit, the teasing faint, but there, before she shook her head, “It’s not of importance. Just, I really hate my name. I’m only saying it because I was rude and barged into this man’s home. And, technically attacked him.” She turned to him, then, bowing her head at him firmly, “I am deeply sorry, Sir.”

“None of that Sir, nonsense,” the silver knife was held out, and she glanced between the two of them, before holding out her pointer finger. “Prick me, Cowboy.” “Why are you calling me that?” He scoffed, reaching forward to do just that. Pleased that there was no sizzle, Bobby held out the flask with the remaining bit of water. They emptied it on her wrist, and, with no reaction, relaxed.

“My apologies,” she gave a soft nod, before looking up at Dean, “And I call you Cowboy, because I have not been formerly introduced to you. For all I know, Dean is a nickname given to you, deriven from the Gilmore Girls show. I wasn’t going to make any assumptions.”

“Gilmore Girls?” Dean repeated under his breath, thoroughly confused, shaking his head sharply before levelling her with a firm expression. “My name is Dean Winchester. And I’ve got questions for you.”

“Dean Winchester like Sam and Dean Winchester?”

His eyes hardened at the quiet question, but her face remained passive, however, when she turned around, picking up the two glasses, she held one out to the older male, “Here, I poured, we need it.” Seeing the younger male open his mouth again, she cut in, with an almost mother-like tone, filled with sternness and warning, “And  _ you _ need  _ water _ . You’re not hydrated. There’s electrolytes in the gatorade. Drink that. Also. Go _ clean yourself.  _ You  _ still _ stink.”

Five minutes of Dean and Bobby quietly muttering in the corner later, Dean stopped his way toward the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom. Polishing off her glass, CJ stood and turned to go to the sink. Catching sight of the dishes, she rolled up her sleeves and began washing. It was a process she’d always done, in every house she’d ever stayed at. Something about doing other peoples dishes made the task calming and mindless. 

“You don’t need to do that,” the gruff voice of the elder hunter reached her ears from nearly two feet away. He was watching her intently, and, seeing how she jumped, startled from her task, he’d ruled out monster, and hunter. No one could be that relaxed.

“Take a sit, girl, we got a lot to discuss.”

* * *

“So you’re from the future?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“None of that Sir nonsense, now, I told ya’ that.” 

“My apologies, but what would you prefer me to call you?”

“Bobby’s fine as anything else.”

Bobby and CJ sat at the table on opposite ends, the shower still running upstairs and a nearly half-finished bottle of jack between them. He looked intrigued, as well as skeptical, eyeing the young woman as she sipped slowly at her third glass. “What year?”

“Twenty-Eighteen,” was the quiet response. “Who’s president?” he asked, more out of curiosity than anything, a look of revulsion crossing her face as she shook her head, “His name is Donald Trump and he is the embodiment of trash and vile behavior. It was either  _ that _ or a pathological liar.”

“Sounds messy,” he huffed.

“And awful,” she shrugged.

“So,” he poured himself another generous glass, offering her the lip of the bottle, though she politely declined with a raised hand. “Why are you here?”

“I unfortunately have the uncanny and most downright terrifying visions of a pair of brothers battling monsters, demons, and ghosts every time that I fall asleep.”

“Beg pardon?” was the only respond he could give. She looked up to him from her amber-filled glass, swirling it around gently, before setting it back down with a soft sigh. “I dream of the Winchester brothers. Every night. And in these dreams, people die. Many people that they care about. It physically pains me to have these dreams. When I had woken from my most painful one, it was actually four months ago.. It felt as if I were being devoured by a wild animal.. And then, I found myself running along the road, hitchhiking where I could, running where I couldn’t.. I just had to hurry..

“I found a grave..” her eyes glazed over and her hoarse voice lowered an octave. “I just.. Stood there, for the longest time.. I was tired, and hungry, but it hurt to move.. And, finally.. I forced myself to leave.. The pull.. It was still there.. It wanted me to wait at the grave.. But I needed food and water.. Better clothes.. Somewhere to sleep.. I left for only a few hours.. And I did as much as I could before the pull hurt too much.. I got the necessary tattoos for protection, won a few poker games to do it, also winning a ride from some poor drunk sod. She’s a 54’. I actually feel sorry for the guy.” She gave a small, dry chuckle, and Bobby polished off his glass, waiting in silence as she gathered her words, and continued. 

“I stayed for three and a half months.. And then, I heard screaming.. I’d spent those three months keeping the dirt loose.. I don’t know  _ why _ I was desecrating a grave, just that I  _ needed _ to.. And in hindsight, now I  _ see  _ why..”

“So you got him from Hell-?” Bobby clarified, only to furrow his brow when she shook her head firmly. “No. It wasn’t me. It was something else. I only helped him out of the  _ grave _ . He was resurrected by something else. It made the windows explode when we stopped at a store. Sounded like EVP, but I couldn’t be sure..”

“Spirit?” he asked. She shook her head, “Couldn’t be. It was hot. And there were too many frequencies overlapping on the radio. Spirits can only strand two, sometimes three together. This one had about fifty stations overlapping.” “Demon?” he asked, then, and she shook her head a final time, “I don’t see how, there was no black smoke. No figures. No sulfur. Just Cowboy and I.”

“Why’d you stick with him?” he asked quietly. She palmed the side of her glass thoughtfully, a solemn look on her face as she breathed in, then breathed out slowly, giving him a look of pure exhaustion, “Honestly.. I’m more of a sap than I let on.. I don’t want people to die.. I.. I want the correct people to receive justice for the events about to be transpired..”

“And those events would be..?”

“The Apocalypse,” her answer was swift and to the point, her eyes betraying none of the panic a normal person would be giving right about then. “The exact way Dean was brought topside is unknown to me,”  _ not a complete lie, on her part _ , “but I know the reason I had gone to him. I’m here to help. Things are going to get a lot more messy in the near future. I need to be sure that you’re prepared for that. And, when I say messy, I mean  _ messy _ ...”

“So.. visions..” he repeated, both becoming silent for a moment when the pipes fell silent, before returning to their conversation. “What exactly does that entail?”

“Seals,” she shrugged her shoulders, glaring at the table as if it were the cause of all of life’s misfortune. “Believe me, I want absolutely nothing more than to be ignorant of this life. I’m not a hunter. I’ve never hunted. The only reason I was confident in disarming you, is because I was raised in a city, where krav maga is encouraged. It also helps that I was raised with mixed martial arts.” “So you’re not a hunter, then why do you want to stay? Fancy moves can only get you so far in this life.” Bobby made a good point, but she’d had three months to prepare for that argument. 

“Believe it or not, I’m pretty knowledgeable about the life. Plus, there’s a lot of innovative life hacks that can solve a lot of stupid, reoccurring problems.” “How long have you had these dreams?” he asked casually. “..Just about eighteen years, now,” she grinned. Christ, she felt old..

“How old are you, anyway?”

Dean was fresh out of the shower and leaned against the frame of the doorway, watching them with interest. If Bobby was relaxed enough with her to give her his scotch, she couldn’t have been too bad. 

“Not sure,” she shrugged, a smile curling her lips as they locked eyes, “I was born in March, of 1998. That would make me, what, nine?”

Bobby, sipping his scotch, didn’t even flinch, while Dean openly spluttered at the revelation, eyes snapping wide as he unabashedly stared at her. She looked a  _ Hell  _ of a lot older than  _ nine _ .

“Enough teasin’ girl, you’ll give ‘im a hemorrhage..” “Yes, Bobby,” she chuckled a little, turning to give the elder Winchester a small wink, “I’m twenty-two, Cowboy, relax.”

“But-” “Time travel.” Bobby interrupted him swiftly, giving him a warning look, “You try to wrap your head around it, then you’ll  _ really _ get a hemorrhage..”

“I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation today, anyway.”

The woman’s statement was followed by the downing of her drink, and she quickly rose to set it in the sink. “Nor am I up to being awake for more than an hour more. I’ll be heading to the most affordable motel you can recommend. I’m also going to leave my number for you.”

She quickly washed and rinsed her cup in the sink, turning back just in time to come face-to-chest with Dean Winchester.

She nearly punched him, rather, she settled for giving him a glare. “You need to wear a bell for my mental health. That is not a normal way to walk.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” his demand was quiet, but calm. He was curious, just as much as he was annoyed, “You haven’t explained anything about how I’m back, why I’m back-”

“Do I  _ look _ like a magical knowledge guru to you?” her reply was indignant, and when she had ducked to get around him, she turned her attention toward Bobby. “I’m getting a cheap motel room, do you have any recommendations?”

“Well it ain’t no bed and breakfast, but there’s a couple spare rooms upstairs,” his words were followed promptly, by Dean’s exclamation of “What-?!” 

“I can cook, what’s your breakfast go-to?” she was quick to agree, the added security of knowing that the elder Winchester would be closer to her, and effectively more protected, settled something deep within her chest. “I also enjoy baking, and, as you noticed, cleaning. If needed, I can also help out in your garage. I’m not an expert, but I can tune-up, buff out and give a decent paint-job.” “Deal,” the elder hunter got to his feet and they gave each other a firm shake, Dean’s head going from one to the other back and forth as he tried to process this. “Bobby, we don’t even know this chick-!”

“Her name’s CJ and she offered to cook, you gonna turn that down even after she tried to take a knife for you, boy?”

“Saying it like that implies I might like him,” the girl smiled with the statement when the Winchester had gone silent, his eyes boring sharply into her frame as she tucked her arms against her chest and sent the elder man a sweet smile. “I’ll make you a good dinner tonight as thanks. Do you have any preferences? I’ll be running to the store for the ingredients, should you want something specific.”

“Hold up,” Dean finally cut into the quiet back and forth, halting the conversation immediately as they turned to him. He inhaled sharply, and shook his head, “First and foremost, I need to find Sam. He hasn’t been answering his phone.” 

“I’ll leave you to your business, then,” CJ turned to leave the room after a moment, patting Dean’s shoulder, the one that had been marked, on her way toward the stairs. “Bobby-?!” she called back, half-way up and struck with a thought. “Which room would you like me to take-?!”

“Second from the bathroom-!”

“Thank you-!”


	4. Chapter 4

CJ flopped onto her back with a huff, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans, and a green flannel. She had no idea if the boys were going to bring her with them to get Sam, but she was willing to bet that they wouldn’t.

A knock sounded on her closed door, and, after brushing the damp bangs from her face, she got to her feet to tug it open. Dean stood at the threshold, looking uncomfortable and slightly annoyed as he glanced toward the stairs, then back at her. “Get your stuff, we’re heading to Illinois.”

Or, maybe she should stop making bets about the future..

“For..?” she asked casually.

“My brother. Hurry up, I wanna leave an hour ago.”

“At least you smell better,” her quip was answered with a scoff, but the twitch of his lip didn’t go unnoticed. Turning back inside the room, she grabbed the handle of her bag, not yet packed, and turned to follow him out after shutting the door quietly. It took her a half a minute to lace up the grey boots on the porch steps, and she dumped her bag in her side-car before she reached for her helmet.

“You comin’ with us, girlie?”

Bobby’s voice cut through her focus, and she turned to look at the duo packing into the rusty grey Chevelle. “I’m good-!” she called back loudly, motioning for her helmet and waving him off, “I don’t like tight spaces-!”

“Suit yourself-!” the elder male chuffed, frowning a little as he helped himself into his car. Dean gave her a long, lingering look before following suit, and she fixed on her helmet and scarf before turning her new baby up.

The drive was long, with only one stop for a bathroom break. CJ managed to clean stock on their original and peanut butter M&Ms at the stop, much to the clerks confusion.

Once they’d gotten to the gritty love motel, her nose scrunched up in clear distaste. It was going to smell  _ so  _ bad, she already knew..

After Dean had managed to convince the clerk that his woman was seeing another man, he was given the room his brother had checked out and hurried toward the stairs. Bobby sighed sharply before following, CJ only a few steps behind. The second floor was just as gritty as the first, and as they rolled to a stop at door number 207, Dean immediately raised his fist to knock. The lone female leaned against the wall beside the doorway, out of sight of anyone inside.

The door opened almost immediately, and a nimble woman with pale skin and long dark hair opened the door in next to nothing, looking entirely blase, if not slightly annoyed by the two, gruff men standing in front of her. “So, where is it?”

The men exchanged a look, and Dean turned his, almost puppy-like confusion back towards her. “Where is what?”

“The pizza,” her attitude was full blown, now, and CJ stepped directly into her line of sight with a dark glare while Ruby had kept her glare on Dean, “That apparently takes two guys to deliver-”

“You best watch that mouth of yours before I soak it in holy oil,” the hiss was low, and calm, but it had shut the demon long enough to look at her, startled. CJ glared at her briefly, before turning her eyes up to Dean, “You sure this is the right room? Last I checked, your brother was neither female, nor a cunt.”

“Excuse me,” Ruby started, playing the part of the offended woman, but the ice that radiated from the human woman’s voice was enough to chill bones, “You are excused. Though that  _ heartfelt  _ apology for your deplorable attitude should be aimed toward my handsome  _ friends  _ here, not myself.”

“Hey. Is ev-”

A voice from inside brought everyone’s eyes to the room behind the raven haired female, and Dean looked like ten bags of sand had fallen from his shoulders. Sam was taller, taller than CJ even anticipated, her head probably only coming to his lower pectorals. She could fit two of her into one of him.  _ Yikes _ . His hair was longer than season one, obviously, the almost artfully messy curls pushed off of his forehead and left falling around his ears, nearly reaching the back of his neck.

The brothers locked eyes and there was a single instance of silence. Sam glanced at Bobby, likely asking if what was happening was really going on. It was quiet for two more counts, and the most relaxed, relieved smile pulled at Dean’s lips.

“Heya, Sammy..”

Sam looked out of breath, his eyes wide and his pupils blown, and as Dean went forward, arms out to reach for a hug, Sam pulled a knife. Bobby was inside before CJ managed to, Sam having knocked Dean into a wall while the older hunter grasped at his arm.

“Who are you-?!” Sam’s question was loud, and damn near shrill. CJ ignored them, her eyes trained on the raven-haired woman ‘cowering’ by the door.

“What, like you didn’t do this-?” Dean scoffed, loudly, looking both annoyed and frustrated, as well as heartbroken and angry. 

Ruby met her eyes, feeling the attention, and they stayed locked for several seconds.

“Do what-?!” Sam demanded sharply.

CJ gave her a slow, narrow glare, and casually lifted her hand to her shoulder, slowly lowering it down, to the raven haired woman’s view, to show the tattoo imprinted into the skin there. The seal of Lucifer stood prominently in front of a pair of orange, and flaming red tinged wings.

The argument was now over, but Ruby was still staring at her, the flannel moved again to cover the design before she turned back to the fight casually, as if the exchange were never made. Ruby stared for only a few more seconds before she’d snapped back into persona.

They were hugging now. Cute. She almost cracked a sweet smile. But the weight of what she had done, what she will do, and what Sam had done probably less than an hour ago were weighing heavily against her chest.

How the fuck was she going to do this. For now, by the fear in Ruby’s eyes, she would at least have a bit of rope to leash  _ her _ with. Not to mention, so long as she doesn’t parade around naked in front of the boys, they shouldn’t ask.

Not at all a problem, considering they were sex walking and she prefered to stay alive long enough to meet Chuck and punch him in the face.

“So are you two, like, together?” Ruby’s question broke CJ’s revery and the most god-honest, relieved laughter broke out of her body. She’d laughed harder than she’d had in over three years.

“ _ Ahahahahahahahahaha-! Oh wow, hahaha-! That will  _ **_never_ ** _ get old-!” _

“CJ, shut up-!” Dean barked the order almost automatically, but the way she had nearly crumpled to her knees in a sort of obvious relief had him reeling, what the Hell was up with this chick. Sam seemed startled more by the woman laughing than he was at the question, staring at CJ as if she were a sudden intruder on a precious moment, or a stranger who’d plopped at their breakfast table. 

“So.. is that a yes..?” The raven tried after the giggling had died down. Sam was immediately able to shake his head, his breathing still a bit laborious from the sudden scuffle, but otherwise fine, “No-! No, he’s.. He’s my brother..”

“O-Oh.. got it.. I.. I guess..” Ruby played the act near flawlessly, both awkward and uncomfortable as she glanced between the two with skeptical eyes. “I should.. Probably go..” Sam almost wanted to call her out on it, but, knowing his brother and Bobby were both there, he knew not to give anything away.

“Yeah, yeah..” Sam nodded quickly, urging her out faster with his eyes as she did the awkward caught in a one-night stand routine. “That’s probably a good idea, sorry..”

CJ watched Dean eye the woman up and down as she moved, a smug smile twitching across his lips as he glanced from his brother to the supposed babe.

Dressed and clutching her purse to her chest, Ruby was ushered toward the door by Sam. Locking eyes with the brunette, the raven managed a confused, narrow-eyed glance, though the brief, flickering expression of feral warning from the female brunette made her face go blank. ‘Talk later,’ CJ had mouthed the words just before Sam had turned, lifting her head to meet his openly curious and cautious eyes as he looked her up and down, probably immediately assuming hunter, if the way his guard flared up was any indication.

“So, call me,” Ruby played the part of charmed, happy girl as Sam leaned in the doorway. They played up the act like second nature and CJ wanted both popcorn and a rotten sack of tomatoes. “Yeah, sure thing Kaitlyn..”

“Krissy..” the pang of hurt in the demon's voice almost had the futuresque-female snorting, a small, smug smile pulling at the corner of her mouth before she wiped it away into a dubious expression of intrigue.

“Right,” Sam nodded, innocently. Ruby glanced around with a blank, awkward expression, turning to leave down the hall.

“I almost feel sorry for the poor bitch.. Key word being  _ almost _ ..” the quiet murmur was meant for Bobby’s ears alone, and the older male sniffed a little in agreement when he met her glance.

“So tell me, what’d it cost?” Dean’s question cut through the tense silence, Sam sitting almost stiffly on the faux tiger print chair as he gazed up at his brother in wonder, said male leaning casually against the motel counter.

“What the girl?” Sam smiled sheepishly as he leaned down to lace up his shoes, a laugh on his lips as he tried to play it off as embarrassment, “I don’t pay, Dean.”

“Not funny, Sam,” was the only stern response he received.

“And I highly, highly doubt that..” CJ muttered, though it was in Enochian this time, getting a sharp, curious look from the older man beside her and offering him a slight grin. “Old language. Tell you later.”

“To bring me back,” Dean clarified sharply, arms still folded tightly across his chest, “What’d it cost?” the bags of sand had returned to his shoulders, though the strain was now in the coil of his muscles as he forced himself to remain stiff and stern. CJ almost wanted to give him a back rub. It looked painful.

“Is it just your soul or was it something worse?” Dean was so done and tired at this point.

“You think I made a deal?” Sam sounded genuinely confused, this time.

“That’s exactly what we think,” Bobby’s confirmation only seemed to confuse him even more.

“Well, I didn’t,” Sam sounded almost indignant this time.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dean’s voice was soft, but the faint trace of pleading lied reverently beneath his tone. 

“I’m not lying,” Sam assured them, firm and resolute. He was being honest, about that, at least.

“So what, now I’m off the hook and you’re on it, is that it?” Dean insisted, his voice was still low, but he now took slow, measure steps toward his brother. “So now you’re some demon’s bitch boy,  _ I _ never  _ asked  _ to be saved like this.”

“You know Dean, I wish I had done it, alright-!” Sam was on his feet in a second, meeting his brother face to face with an offended, and fierce expression. 

Dean was on him in a second, grasping at the lapels of his brother’s shirt and getting in his face directly. “There’s only one way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth-!”

“I tried-!” Sam cut in, smacking his brothers hands away from himself and giving him a glare that nearly rivalled his, “I tried  _ everything _ , that’s the truth. I tried opening the devil’s gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright-?!”

It was quite for a second, then Sam continued, his tone strained with the unshed tears and pain of those few months he’d managed to bottle up. “You were rotting in hell, Dean. For months-  _ For months _ -!! And I couldn’t stop it.. So I’m sorry it wasn’t me, alright..?” His tone lowered, eyes shifting as he blinked back tears, fists clenching as he grounded himself, his voice mello and somber. “Dean, I’m sorry..” The silence was thick, with emotion, unsaid words, and the words that had already been said. 

After a few seconds, Dean had found the muscles in his jaw to work out the words he’d bitten back. “..It-.. It’s okay, Sammy..” He swallowed thickly, giving his brother a shifty, but honest expression, “You don’t have to apologize.. I do believe you.”

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Bobby’s words drew the boy’s attention as he spoke up for the first time since getting there, “I’m gladdened that Sam’s soul remains intact, but.. That does raise a sticky question..” Eyes flickered between one another as it dawned on them, almost like a bolt of lightning. “If  _ he  _ didn’t pull me out..” Dean muttered, turning his gaze between the two members of his family he had left, “..then  _ what  _ did?”

“....Well-!” The sharp clap got everyone’s attention, drawing it immediately to the woman looking over a small selection of delivery-available establishment brochures as she perched on the kitchen counter, innocently swinging her legs to and fro as she spoke, “I vote we order pizza and beer and pretend tonight we _ didn’t _ all try to knife each other and brush off hookers.”

“Who is she?” Sam could only ask Dean once his attention had been brought back to the unfamiliar person. Something in his gut, almost suspiciously near his stomach, churned at the thought of being anywhere near her, but the strangest pull was there, as well.. Like a sort of instinctual magnet.

He didn’t like it..

“That would be  _ CJ, _ ” Dean’s lips curved around the name like an eloquent wine, though his eyes were sharp as he watched the woman with blatant disapproval, “She dug me out of the grave..” “Why was she there in the first place?” Sam muttered, turning his narrowed, suspicious eyes towards the woman who was humming softly, blatantly ignoring them both as she flipped through the options.. “Meat lovers or combination.. It’s such a hard decision.. Why is pizza so hard to order after ten o’clock..?”

“That’d be cuz she felt the hellhounds tearing into Dean the night Lilith got him.” Bobby’s words got both of their attentions like a bomb, each giving them wide-eyed looks of shock, even Dean hadn’t heard that little tidbit just yet. “Said that when she woke up, she felt a pull, followed it to the grave. Got a Hell of a time prying herself away just to get food, let alone get things she needed to live.”

“She had a little campsite there when I woke up.. Just inches from the blast-site.. Just a tent and one bag..” Dean’s observation was quiet as he turned back to watch the girl comparing only two fliers, now, “She torched the thing when I woke up and helped me get to Bobby’s.. I.. didn’t think at the time that she’d been actually  _ waiting _ ..”

“Yeah, well, she’s got a lot of stuff goin’ on that she needs to sort out, herself,” Bobby gruffed, clearing his throat loudly before calling out to the woman, “The ladies are done  _ gossipin’ _ . Find anything good to eat?” “I’m caught between meat lovers and combination..” came the clear, dismayed cry as she flopped back onto the narrow counter, completely balanced as she threw an arm over her eyes, “Bobby.. Decide  _ for _ me-! I’ll buy, but I can never be in charge of picking menu items after ten o’clock-!”

“She’s.. Something..?” Sam murmured. Dean flinched a little at the remark, but kept his otherwise annoyed look in place, “Oh yeah, a  _ real  _ somethin’..”

“Just get both, Sam’s probably got beer,” Bobby called, walking over to pluck the menu from her hand with a grimace, “This place gives me the jeebies..”


	5. Chapter 5

“So, what were you doing around here if you weren’t digging beyond the grave?” Dean accepted the beer Sam had offered him with a nod, everyone in various states of relax as they waited for the pizza.

“Well once I figured out I couldn’t save you.. I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback..” he took a deep drink of his own beer as he sat down, glancing between Dean, Bobby, and the suddenly pensive, quiet woman who perched at the window, curtain drawn back as she watched the streets like a hawk. “All by yourself,” Bobby scoffed, thumbing the lip of his bottle with a dry, humorless chuckle, “Who do you think you are, your old man?”

Sam returned the dry laugh, glancing at the floor in penance, and palming his beer from one hand to the other. “Yeah, I’m-.. I’m sorry.. Bobby, I should have called.. I was pretty messed up..”

CJ watched the street with vivid intent. The second she saw Ruby again, she was going to need to give her the burner number she’d bought.

Well, she bought three, but that wasn’t really important.

“Oh yeah,” she felt Dean move closer in her direction and turned her head to see him from the corner of her eye, watching as he picked up a lacy white bra by the curve of his pinkie in the hand that held his beer, “I really feel your pain.”

Sam let out a quiet, nervous chuckle, glancing around the room to avoid his brother’s smug eyes. “Ahm- anyways. I was tracking these demons to Tennessee. And, out of nowhere, they took a left, booked it up here.”

“When?” Dean demanded.

“Yesterday morning,” Sam offered, before taking another heaping gulp of his drink.

“You think these demons are here because of you?” Bobby asked quietly, confusion and concern twisting into his words without thought.

“Likely, but not ballpark, quite yet,” the voice of the lone female occupant of the room drew their attention as she snapped the blinds shut with a tug and pulled a container of salt from her bag to liberally line the windows. “The ringing that Cowboy and I had heard in the shop wasn’t demonic. There was no wavelength to suggest that it was, and while Demons hurt like hell, there is something else that hurts quite a bit worse.”

“And what would that be?” Sam narrowed his eyes, watching intently as she went from window to doorway, lining everything as she spoke almost absentmindedly. “Something you have met before, but have not truly been introduced to,” she spoke vaguely, and irritation bubbled between Sam’s lips before Bobby reached out his arms to squeeze his shoulder. “She’s like that.. She gets visions, like you used to, but.. Hers are more.. Frequent.. And vivid..”

“Run of the mill prophet without the fancy security detail,” she shrugged, shooting him a small, knowing smile before returning to her task, “It was nothing demonic, if anything, it was so pure it sent out a signal for all the baddies to flock there. Mainly out of curiosity, I’m assuming.”

“But you know what it is,” Dean stated simply. She was silent, giving a non committal hum, before capping her salt with a grimace. “That’ll have to do. Ah-!” She spun on her heel then, pointing toward Dean with the empty can of salt and a frown on her face, “Sleeve off, Cowboy, I wanna make sure that handprint isn’t blistering or fading just yet.”

“Handprint,” Sam repeated dubiously, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull when Dean lifted his shirt to reveal the giant, burn-like print of a hand marking his shoulder.  Dean didn’t even seem bothered by the question, more so the sweet time she took plucking her way over there to stand beside his chair and dig through her bag.

“What are we supposed to do, we’ve got a pile of questions, and no shovel. The only lead we have is a..” Sam was going to name some unpleasant synonyms for stubbornness, but bit his tongue, merely gesturing to the woman standing over Dean with a packet of M&Ms in hand, eyeing it in deep thought. “I know a psychic,” Bobby offered after a few moments of silence, “A few hours from here. With something this big, maybe she’s heard the other side talking.” “Hellyeah, it’s worth a shot,” Dean nodded, the eldest hunter of the three men muttering that he’d be right back as he got up to place the call. Dean glanced back at the woman still hovering just inches from him, torn between asking several questions at once, before settling for a simple one.

“Why are you shoving candy in my face?”

“Your stomach was growling,” the brunette muttered, holding out the packet when he looked reluctant, “It won’t ruin the appetite for pizza, that should be here in a few minutes, but double stomach pain doesn’t feel nice.” “Thanks, I guess.. Weird, but thanks..” Dean murmured, taking the bag and tearing it open just a bit while she took over to inspect the wound. Her hands were cool against the warm skin of his arm, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing out the shape of the hand. Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, she pressed it over his arm, and rubbed what he could assume was a dull marker around each groove, tracing out the print with slow, practiced patience.

“So, your name is CJ?”

Sam’s effort to get her to talk was weak, at best, but she had stopped all the same, lowering the marker, in order not to ruin the drawing, and turned her head to give him a polite nod. “Yes, it is. And you are?”

“My name is Sam,” he offered, in an equally polite, monotone voice. He wasn’t completely sure what to ask first, but, simplicity was always best, right? “So, how old are you?”

“Nine.”

“Nineteen?”

“No, she means _nine_ ,” Dean clarified with a firm, serious nod, the little bit of beer Sam had pulled into his mouth returning to the bottle with a cough. “What- how can she- what?”

“Time travel,” she grinned, flashing him a smile that was all teeth, eyes closed in amusement as she drummed her fingers on the back of the love seat Dean occupied. “I was born in 1998. In March. I’m currently twenty two, I’ve been here since just before 2005. I got put in a mental hospital when they couldn’t find record of my existence anywhere. DNA never showed up, not even for baby me, which kind of freaks me out, but I suppose that if I were in two places at once, the time paradox would tear both coexisting timelines completely apart and destroy the fabric of the universe.”

“English, please,” Dean muttered, a grunt in his voice as he lifted a hand to his temple.

“Two of me in one place is bad, if we touch, the planet could explode.”

“Much better, thank you,” he scoffed, holding absolutely still when she had returned to her task of tracing. “What are you even doing?”

“Getting a copy of this, obviously. I’m putting it in my journal for future reference,” She pointed to the think travel book she had placed on his lap with her bag so she could work effectively. It was quite for a few more minutes, though she had not moved from the arm of his chair, she was now taking pleasure in measuring the size of her tiny hand compared to the mark.

“It’s almost yaoi sized, which is both scary and absolutely reassuring to my future plans.”

“And what would those plans be?” Sam’s voice was paired with Dean’s intense stare, and she only managed to give Dean a sweet, knowing grin, “You’re gonna meet your _best friend~_ And he’s freaking _adorable~_ ”

“Alright, I’m done,” Dean got up from his seat abruptly, sending her flailing in her seat, arms waving as she arched backwards, however, probably in a knee jerk reaction, his arm draped around her waist and hauled her back up, effectively dumping her into the actual seat.

The two were silent for a second, trying to process why the Hell he had done that, before he dropped her, shook his head to clear it, and spun on his heel to leave.

“Ah- wait-!” Sam, struck with the sight of his brother leaving toward the door, quickly got to his feet, reaching around his neck for the cord he knew was there, “You, ah- you might want this back..” He carefully removed the bronze amulet and held it out toward his brother, dropping it into his palm.

Dean examined the old, but loved artifact with a soft sort of revery, glancing up to give his brother a brief, warm smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sam brushed it off with a soft laugh.

“Hey Dean,” Sam asked, quietly, once his brother had dawned the present he’d given him long ago, “..What was it like?

“What, Hell-?” Dean, surprised, took a guess at his brother’s apologetic expression.

“I-I-ah,” Dean shook his head when he could see his brother’s puppy-dog eyes, the lie slipping off of his tongue with ease as he shuffled his feet, painting his face with confusion. “I don’t know.. I-uh.. I must of blacked it out.”

They shared a look, Sam looking defeated, and sad, while Dean remained cool and relaxed. “I don’t remember a damned thing.”

“Well,” Sam smiled a little, but his voice was barely above a whisper, “Thank God for that-”

“What the fuck are you thanking _God_ for?! He’s the one sitting box seat for all this bullshit-!”

The loud, honestly irritated voice of the lone female came from the far end of the room, letting the boys know that she had heard them perfectly fine, even at the volume and distance as she crouched over a window, glaring at the street, “I swear if I don’t see the pizza here in five minutes..”

As if on cue, she perked up rightly, and bolted for the door, “Pizza-!”

“CJ-!” Dean made a motion of grabbing her arm, but she ducked under him with ease and patted his shoulder as she passed, “Be right back, Cowboy-!”

* * *

She stood outside longer than she needed to with the pizza’s, one meat lovers and one combination. She waited in silence for the long black haired woman to come out of her hiding in the alley a few yards over, and offered her a glare, receiving one in equal, if not more fiery, in return. “Who are you?” Ruby’s question was the first words to break the general silence, but the look she got in return didn’t answer anything, while a slip of paper was held out.

“My number. _Use it_ . If I call, you _answer_ , if you don’t, I’m going to track you, hunt you, and shove that knife you love so much so far up your ass you’ll taste static. Capisce? Lucifer is not something to fuck around with. And neither are the Winchesters.”

“I don't’ know what you’re-” “Save it,” the dimension crosser cut her off, relishing in the trace of fear the demon displayed, though it was quickly covered with pride and annoyance, “I want him out just as much as you do, but I abhor your methods of doing so. Do what you must- but if you hurt _either_ of them.. I will make your death slow.. And I won’t need to worry about hurting any human in there, will I? Considering you recycled that fine piece?”

“How do you know about..”

“I know everything, just answer when I call and I wont rat you out.”

“Who are you?” Ruby demanded again.

CJ smiled, a feral glint coming to her eyes as she took two steps closer to the demon, the raven taking just as many steps away for distance at the threatening vibe.

“I’m one pissed off mama bear trying to keep her cubs in line, and adopt several more.. You tell Sam about any of this, and I’ll be sure Luci makes you his personal hound’s chew toy. Her name is Ramsey and she's got one hell of a _bite_."”

* * *

 

“How long does it take to get a pizza?” 

Dean’s grumble was met with a look of silence as the brunette met his eyes, slowly dragging her eyebrows upward with suggestion twisting her features.

“I’m sorry, did you  _ want _ me to ignore the pizza-man’s ass?”

“Seriously?”

Dean’s expression flickered in both annoyance and bitterness, his teeth chewing over his lip as he worked out just  _ why _ that comment made him so annoyed. Sam looked equally, if not more so annoyed. This chick was either too quiet, too loud, talked too much or didn’t talk enough.

Didn’t she have a medium setting?

“Boys.. and girl,” Bobby’s voice cut into the quiet as they poured over the now open pizza boxes, “I’ve got an address, you comin’?”

“But.. but pizza..” CJ’s voice was quiet as she looked down at the boxes in forlorn, she felt relaxed, for the first time in ever, due to the close proximity of both brothers. Like she had her boundless energy back. 

Her worst fear seemed to confirm itself in that moment.

“Fine,” her voice was back to monotone as she stood up quickly, ignoring the surprised looks of both brothers as she passed them and snatched her bag from the floor by the wall, “I’m taking my bike. Hurry up.” She disappeared out the door, and Bobby shot the two boys a look of exasperation. “What did you two idjits do in the ten minutes I was gone?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Dean defended himself immediately, his shoulders bunching up like ruffled feathers. Sam frowned at his brothers reaction, the coil in his shoulders similar with indignation as they shared a look, Dean picking up the pizzas as they moved to follow the elder man, who had rolled his eyes and turned, yelling at them to grab their crap and follow.


	6. Chapter 6

“How long does it take to get a pizza?” 

Dean’s grumble was met with a look of silence as the brunette met his eyes, slowly dragging her eyebrows upward with suggestion twisting her features.

“I’m sorry, did you  _ want _ me to ignore the pizza-man’s ass?”

“Seriously?”

Dean’s expression flickered in both annoyance and bitterness, his teeth chewing over his lip as he worked out just  _ why _ that comment made him so annoyed. Sam looked equally, if not more so annoyed. This chick was either too quiet, too loud, talked too much or didn’t talk enough.

Didn’t she have a medium setting?

“Boys.. and girl,” Bobby’s voice cut into the quiet as they poured over the now open pizza boxes, “I’ve got an address, you comin’?”

“But.. but pizza..” CJ’s voice was quiet as she looked down at the boxes in forlorn, she felt relaxed, for the first time in ever, due to the close proximity of both brothers. Like she had her boundless energy back. 

Her worst fear seemed to confirm itself in that moment.

“Fine,” her voice was back to monotone as she stood up quickly, ignoring the surprised looks of both brothers as she passed them and snatched her bag from the floor by the wall, “I’m taking my bike. Hurry up.” She disappeared out the door, and Bobby shot the two boys a look of exasperation. “What did you two idjits do in the ten minutes I was gone?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Dean defended himself immediately, his shoulders bunching up like ruffled feathers. Sam frowned at his brothers reaction, the coil in his shoulders similar with indignation as they shared a look, Dean picking up the pizzas as they moved to follow the elder man, who had rolled his eyes and turned, yelling at them to grab their crap and follow.

* * *

Four hours down the interstate, just as Bobby had said. When they’d gotten into town, it was way too early for them to meet with Pam, so it was agreed they’d meet her around seven in the morning. CJ hung back outside the porch as she watched the boys, glaring into the surrounding neighborhood briefly before returning her eyes to the door as it creaked open. Her entire demeanour softened, and she couldn’t help but faintly smile at the enthusiastic hug the older two shared.

“Bobby~!”

Pamela’s voice was thick with greeting and cheer, and she hugged him so tightly he nearly flew off of his feet..

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Bobby grinned, letting her go while Pamela moved to look the three younger adults over. “So,” she grinned, rocking back on her heels, she was dressed both casual and edgy, her appearance putting both boys in shock, while CJ just smiled knowingly. “These the boys, and the lady?”

“I’m no lady, I assure you,” CJ quipped, flashing a smile when the physics dark eyes trailed to her with curiosity and a soft sort of glaze. She shook herself out of it quickly, returning her attention to the boys, she would address the younger woman’s aura later. 

“Sam, Dean, CJ,” Bobby introduced them politely, “Pamela Barnes, best known psychic in the damn state.”

“Hey,” Dean gave her nod with his winning smile. The smile that damned CJ to a life of prophetess and possible ruin.

“Mm-mm-mm.” The smile she shot Bobby made him close his eyes with a slight smirk. “Dean Winchester,” the smile on Pam’s face was knowing, and relaxed, unknowingly giving boys echos of looks CJ had given them prior, “Out of the fire, and back into the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual.” There was a moment of quiet, and she took a step, jerking her chin for them to go ahead. “Come on in.”

“So, you hear anything?” Bobby asked once she’d moved to shut the door behind CJ. Pamela let the door clicked closed as she turned to give him an expression that conveyed both patience, and annoyance. “Well, I oujied my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know what broke your boy out, or why.”

“So, what’s next?” Bobby’s question was drowned out to CJ as she examined the well-kept home, trailing her eyes along the interior and marvelling over the small things. 

“You’re not gonna summon the damn thing here?” Bobby’s skepticism brought her back to earth and she shot a look toward the ceiling, before shaking her head. She’d prevent it as much as she could, but they needed to know his name, at least.

“No, I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a.. crystal ball without the crystal,” she pat Bobby’s shoulder as she passed, and CJ watched Pam move to set up her stylish foyer table into a decent alter. She decided to help efficiency by moving to shut the curtains, catching eyes with the psychic as she did so and receiving a pleased smile in response.

“Well I can’t say Bobby said much about you, girl.” Pam offered her a curious smile, but the suspicion was still there as she glanced between her and the two boys. “There's something,  _ between  _ you three..”

“Graviating?” CJ offered, flashing her a smile before shaking her head with a grimace, “Trust me, it’s more of a pain in the ass than anything, I almost starved myself trying to keep it happy. And no, I didn’t do it, and neither did the thing that raised Dean from perdition, at least, I hope so. If, for any reason, he  _ was _ involved, I will be eating  _ fried chicken _ for a good month.”

“Was that symbolic?” Pam asked curiously, bending down to go through a cabinet while CJ fiddled with the blinds. The brunette scoffed, dead serious as she looked down to lock eyes with her, “Not in the least.”

“Who’s Jesse?” Dean asked casually.

Pam let out a little laugh, looking over her shoulder with a smile, “Well, it wasn’t forever.”

“His loss,” the elder Winchester shrugged his shoulder. His eyes were smoldering, and CJ had to take a moment to remove herself from the situation to realize that she would have swooned for those very same eyes not five months ago. Crazy things, perspective seems to do to people.

Pam got to her feet, candles in hand, and stood inches from the shorter male to give him an equally daring, smouldering smile. “Might be your gain..” She turned to get the rest of the needed items, and CJ let the barest hint of a laugh leave with her exhale, “Yowza..”

“Dude,” the boys turned a bit away from the table, Dean’s voice lowered with brotherly conspiracy, “I’m  _ so _ in.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna eat you alive,” Sam chuckled, giving his brother a grin.

“Hey, I just got out of jail,” Dean flashed him a smile, the buildup of desires and longings the pit had given him thrumming to the surface as he began mentally writing his newest bucket list. “ _ Bring _ it.”

“You’re invited, too, grumpy,” Pam pat Sam’s shoulder as she passed them, making no mistake to flash them both a smile as she did so, before continuing on with her task. She’d heard them. 

“You are  _ not  _ invited,” Dean nipped that in the bud when his brother gave a quiet, whispered laugh.

“I love a woman who takes charge,” CJ murmured, trailing her eyes along Pam’s muscled arms with a soft pleasant shudder, “Lady. you are a whole lot of wonderful..”

Pam looked over her shoulder again, this time shooting CJ a wink. A pleased grin was her only answer, before CJ shook her head with a sad sigh. “Sorry, I draw the line at three ways. Four ways are too much of a  _ literal _ cluster.”

“Shame,” Pam grinned. CJ, so bad, wanted to mess with this, but, seeing as she had other things to do, merely sighed, and shook her head with a sad smile, “Maybe another day.”

* * *

Each person sat at a place of the table between the pentagram’s points. CJ sat just between Sam and Bobby, catching his eye and glaring at him when he furrowed his eyebrows in hesitance. “I don’t bite on the first date, Lucky, that’s reserved for fourth.” He grasped her hand without a word, and CJ took Bobby’s with absolutely no issue.

“And,” Pam reached subtly under the table, her tone casual, “I need to touch something our mystery monster touched.” “Woah-!” A bang cut off her words as Dean shot his knee up in surprise, “Well he didn’t touch me there.” “ _ Yet _ ,” CJ let out a whispery, giggly laugh when Bobby looked at her. “Oh, I’m just  _ waiting _ to make the jokes..”

“I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle.” It was like a flip had switched, and the playful Pam was gone, revealing nothing but a stern, wizened physic. CJ almost swooned, but kept herself in check. “I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle,” static began playing at the old tv in the corner, and CJ could feel the tingling presence of grace tugging at the altar. It didn’t want to be there. Not good. “I invoke, conjure and command you-”  _ Castiel, my name is Castiel. Please cease your actions, now.  _ “Castiel?” her voice changed, and she was repeating the words before stopped. “No,” her voice was firm, and CJ bit back a wince, she had to stop this. “Sorry Castiel, I don’t scare easy.”  _ Please do not-  _ “Pamela,” CJ’s voice, cold and firm, cut into the psychic's sentence, “ _ Stop _ . Now. While you are ahead. He is warning you.”

“We need to see-” “You will see it-!” CJ cut her off sharply, making both boys jump with the tone, and Bobby squeezed her hand sharply in surprise, but she ignored him, Pam was still keeping her eyes closed, “Pamela, enough. Stop. He will reveal himself, at later time,  _ please _ .”

_ Humans are not able- _

“Castiel,  _ be silent _ -!” The Enochian poured out of her mouth with such anger the entity stopped short. Her Enochian resumed, and she gripped the hands she held tighter, keeping the connection strong, “ _ They will not listen to you. You are a stranger. _ ” 

“You are talking to it,” Pamela mumbled the words, squirming in her seat as she tried to manage the connection, it was stronger across the table, “You two hold tighter to her, don’t let go.” “Pamela, this is your last chance, please do not look at him,” CJ warned quickly. The urgency in her voice was met with silence, and, for just a moment, Pamela was going to ignore her.

But through the connection, there was a burst.

There was pleading, sorrow, warning.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Her hands fell away from Dean’s mark, out of Bobby’s, and she pushed back away from the table, her hands flying to her eyes at the first hint of a spark. CJ was on her in an instant, crushing the woman to her chest and hiding her face into the darkness of her jacket. The candles had gone flying in her jump, wax spilling to the floor as the boys fumbled around the fallen table. Pamela grunted in pain, a piercing headache echoing throughout her skull as she clutched at CJ’s shirts. “Oww.. What-?.. My head..” “That would be the frequencies.. It’s normal.. Took Cowboy a couple hours to adjust, it’ll be longer for you, because of your sensitivity. Just relax.. The lights are staying off. Just relax, just relax.. You’re safe.. You’re fine.. Nothing is going to hurt you.. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe..”

She rocked the frazzled woman against her chest for several long minutes, the men on standby watching with wide eyes, and tense muscles. “It’s okay.. It’s alright..”  _ Castiel tried to warn you. You wouldn’t have listened. Had you looked at his face, your eyes would have burst into flames. You would have been blind... _ “...It’s just a bit of aftershock, you will be fine, I promise..

“I promise..”


	7. Chapter 7

CJ sat curled up on the chair at the table in front of Dean, the elder Winchester eyeing the sullen girl with near palpable malice and annoyance. “Why won’t you say anything. You haven’t said a word since Pamela’s freak out.”

She didn’t even blink to acknowledge him, and for some reason, that pissed him off more. Sam was out talking to Bobby, who had stayed behind to comfort Pam, so while he was gone, he took the chance. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice, elbows on the table as her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Listen here, I know you know more than what you’re saying, you’ve practically said so yourself, but this thing, this thing isn’t a joking matter. If you know what this thing is, you need to tell us.  _ Now _ . Before somebody dies.”

“Sam’s back.”

The quiet words were the first she’d said in an hour, and Dean clicked his tongue when, true to her word, his shaggy haired brother entered the diner, closing his phone as he did so and hurrying the last few steps to take the open seat to face Dean. “How’s Pam?” the blonde asked immediately. He flashed his eyes wearilly at CJ, but otherwise didn’t speak to her, instead turning his attention to Dean with a relieved sort of smile, “Pam is calm, now. She’s sleeping, actually, after demanding he go out to get her half a liquor store. Her eyes hurt, and sting, so she might be needing glasses. She says some things close up are blurry.”

“At least she has eyes.”

The mumble caught both of their attentions immediately, and the glare they received when they opened their mouths to speak were beat by a sharp, and stern continuation, “And if for one second you think I did anything to hurt Pamela, you’re damn wrong. Castiel would have, literally burned out her eyes. That’s what these things do. They purify and they destroy. Not always in that order.”

“What is it?” Dean demanded.

“Ask him yourself,” she hissed back, all pretense of former politeness, gone. “I don’t think you truly understand the fact that not even four months ago, I wasn’t involved with this crazy ass life.” The brothers shared a quick, sharp look, but she ignored them, plowing on. 

“I’d never seen a ghost, never seen a witch, never met a werewolf. Then, I lie awake one night, feeling like my heart is some old, wind-down clock trying to grunge out it’s last ticks, and then bang- I’m getting mauled from the inside by something that had razors for claws and big teeth. When I come to, I have no wounds, no injuries, but I felt every second of the pain. Then I feel a pull. It hurts, and it’s strong, strong enough that I could feel my brain shutting off. I snuck out of a medium security mental ward reserved for the more special cases attuned to violence. I managed to hitchhike, pickpocket, and march my way to a damn grave. And for what? For.. For a man, who I just  _ met _ , to lead me around on a leash like some fucking magic eight ball for the next lottery? I don’t think so-!”

Sam shot Dean a look, but the elder Winchester’s lips were pressed tightly together, watching her intently as she continued to rant, fists curled in on one other and nails nearly breaking skin. “I know things, bad things, things that you do  _ not need _ to know. And  _ will not _ believe from my mouth. For what reason do you even think you’d be able to trust me, anyway? For all you know, you could think I’m leading you around to die. Well guess what?” she slammed her fist on the table then, leaning forward sharply when they had coiled up in preparation of a fight, “For some god-awful reason, I don’t want you hurt. The thought of you hurt, hurts  _ me _ . I  _ feel _ when you’re hurt, hungry, or cold, and I  _ hate it _ . I felt  _ numb _ when Dean died, like I had half of my brain working. I’m not going to let myself be some emotionless, control-lacking  _ zombie _ again. I refuse. So no, I won’t answer your questions. Not because I don’t want to. It’s because you can figure it out  _ on your own _ . You  _ have _ . You  _ will _ . I saw it. There was a reason I said that he becomes your best friend, Cowboy. I wasn’t lying.”

The table fell silent, and Sam took a deep breath, before shaking his head, “Alright, if we’re going to do this, we need to cover our basis. Those demons I was tracking? They might still be here.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Dean latched to the new line of conversation almost too quickly, and CJ relaxed into her seat after dipping the rosary of her bracelet into the three glasses of water, murmuring under her breath and pinching her eyes shut.

“Talk to them, figure out what the Hell is really going on?” Sam offered.

The waitress came back, as if on cue, and put three slices of pie down on the table. “Thanks,” Dean nodded, snapping back to the present, Sam following suit as they adjusted in their seats. CJ slid her pie to Dean just as the woman pulled up a chair to sit down, giving them all a pleasant smile. Dean looked up from his two pies, the second one with a bit of surprise, to see the pretty woman giving him a smile. He returned it, giving her a slight look of confusion. “You angling for a tip?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were looking for us?”

Her eyes flickered black, and the boys tensed, but stayed silent, while CJ merely, huffed, subtly lifting up her glass from the table, the rosary wound around it almost silent as it clicked with the side.

The delivery man who'd been eating pie at the counter got up out of his seat, eyeing the table in silence as he moved to lock the doors and flick the sign to closed.

The woman’s eyes flickered back to ‘normal’ as the lock clicked shut, and CJ knew they were scared. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered with the lock.

They were absolutely petrified.

“Dean,” she hummed, reverently as she met the elder Winchester’s eyes, “To Hell and back. Aren’t you a lucky duck?”

“That’s me,” the eldest male played along calmly. CJ could see Sam’s fingers slowly, minutely flickering toward his pocket, wary of the ‘patrons’ watching them with obsidian eyes. Ruby’s knife. If he could just reach it..

“So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh?” she scoffed, quiet, looking more irritated than anything. But CJ could see. Because she knew. That clenching of her fingers in her lap. She was grounding herself. Bullshitting. “Tell me, what makes  _ you _ so special?”

“Well,” Dean nodded his head a bit, as if thinking, relaxed and almost absentmindedly, “I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.”

“That’s only funny the first few times,” CJ muttered to herself, sitting up obnoxiously and swinging her arms in a loud, leisurely stretch, “Who are you kidding, Cowboy, everyone knows it’s ‘cuz of your charm.”

It was silent, and he didn’t even glance at CJ, keeping his eyes locked with the demon woman. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my doing. I don’t know what pulled me out.”

“I do~!” CJ sang loudly, trying her hardest to get him to glare at her as she swung herself to her feet, standing from the table in an impromptu flourish, “Good sir-! A piece of pie for the road, please-? And a carryout container, if you have ‘em-!” She slammed a few bills on the counter sharply when the demon only glared. He eyed her up for a second, measuring the firmness in her shoulder and seeing the fact that she put actual money down, before his eyes flickered back to human and he moved to get a slice of apple and place it in a carry out. She grinned toward him, sliding him the bills before spinning on her heel, “Alright boys, lets blow this joint. I’ve got shit to do and so do you.”

They were still talking.  _ Seriously _ , CJ rolled her eyes, skipping back over to the table just as Dean muttered, “-If you wouldn’t mind enlightening me, Flo?”

“Mind your tone with me boy, I’ll drag you back to Hell myself-” Sam had gone to lunge, but Dean’s gesture had him pausing, however, the splash of water from the opposite end of the table did not.

It hit the woman with a hiss, and she jerked back with a similar sound, giving the standing young woman a growl as CJ casually twirled the rosary, fingering the glasses of water with a warning look. “Why don’t you watch  _ your _ mouth? You mess with these boys, you mess with me. Ever to think to wonder why I didn’t stab you when we got here? Don’t think I didn’t know. I can  _ smell  _ your fear. Not to mention you just generally  _ stink _ .”

It was quiet as the words sunk in, and Dean felt the faintest smile tug at his lips, “You won’t drag me back to Hell.”

“No?” the woman repeated, her skin burned a good deal on her neck and chest, her eyes dark with anger, but her tone clipped. “No,” Dean repeated, as if they were talking about the color of the drapes, “cuz if you were, you would have done it already. Fact is, you don’t know  _ who _ cut me loose.” he turned his glance toward the other patrons, who were staring at them intently, “You’re just as spooked as we are, and you’re looking for answers.” The woman glanced at Sam, trying to gauge if Dean was bullshitting her, but Sam gave nothing away, and she turned back to Dean after a weary glance at CJ. 

“Maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit, hmm? ..Or-uh.. Godzilla.” Dean was just playing now. He could see it, too. CJ almost wanted to smile. If she wasn’t so pissed. “Or some big-bad boss demon. I’m guessing, that at your pay grade, they don’t tell you squat. Cuz whoever it was- they  _ want _ me out.. And they’re a lot stronger than you.”

It was quiet for a beat, and CJ could see the frustration building in both of their eyes.

“So go ahead,” Dean mocked, pleasantly, as if inviting her tea, “send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some vaseline and a firehose.”

The woman’s voice was hushed, but unwavering, as she met the elder brother’s eyes with a firmness that almost completely hid her terror. “I’m going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs.”

One, two-  _ SMACK. _

CJ gave a snort, grinning smugly when Sam shot her a look. Another smack sounded, and she stretched again, moving to put both of the boy’s untouched pies, as well as the one she’d given Dean into the carry out. “That’s what I thought.” he muttered tossing a bill on the table with a slight exaggeration, relishing in the way the woman had flinched, and he moved to stand, Sam following suit as CJ already began walking toward the door. She unlocked it with a twist, and shot a glare at the man beside it, watching him back off after just a few seconds of staring. “For the pie.”

“Holy crap that was close,” Dean breathed out once they were several yards from the diner, the door having closed with a chime. “We aren’t just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?” Sam demanded, CJ ignored them as she moved toward her bike and started the process of putting on her helmet, tucking the pie in her sidecar next to her duffle bag.“Yeah, well there’s three of them, probably more, and we’ve only got one knife between us.” “I’ve actually been killing a lot of demons, lately.”

Once she was situated, she revved her engine, breaking them from their argument as she jerked her head back towards the road.

“One job at a time,” Dean finished the argument firmly, hurrying to get to his car. He had missed his baby a lot more than he thought he had..

* * *

Dean was passed out on the couch bed, and CJ was curled up on the chair a few feet away. Sam eyed them both for a moment, taking in Dean’s dead-to-the world sprawl, the books littered around him a testament to how much he was putting into research for once.  _ CJ _ , his eyes trailed to her almost instinctively, and he pressed his lips together in a sort of half-frown. She was upside down in the chair, one leg shooting almost straight up where her back should be, and her hair dragging on the floor.

He’d caught himself staring at her hair when they’d been walking up the steps, snapping himself out of it with a mental smack once he’d realized what he’d been doing. This chick was annoying, and crazy, and she was withholding information. A lot of information.

He shouldn’t stare at her hair or her hips when she walked. Shouldn’t feel his eyebrows furrow in innocent concern when he sees how narrow and thin her wrists are.. How light she seemed to be that she barely makes the cushions on the pull-out bed bend when the steps on it.

No, he just needed to get his head back in the game.

And pray she didn’t know about what he was doing..

* * *

 

CJ felt her eyes flicker open just as Sam pulled away, her muscles tensing as various electronics flicked on, scaring Dean awake just as it had done to her. Dean snatched his gun from beside him, taking note of the thump that had sounded from CJ falling on her head. He’d knelt beside her without a thought to grasp her arm, hauling her up with a grunt as he darted his eyes around the room for the threat.

“Son of a bitch-!” CJ screamed, her hands flying up to her ears almost immediately as she crouched down to the carpet with a wail. “Fuuuuck-  _ Dean _ -! Cover your ears-!!”

It took less than five seconds for the volume to catch up to his own hearing and Dean was almost immediately on the floor beside her, the pained look on her face only amplified by his own as they flinched, hearing the tell-tale shatter of glass.Cabinet after cabinet burst throughout the room, but when Dean managed to crane his head back at the sound of cracking, his eyes flew wide at the mirror directly above them both. His left arm swung around her sharply and he dove to the side, hearing her pained scream as they landed on the ground. Stray glass pierced into his skin, and he could feel a warm wetness he automatically knew was blood. 

It dripped between his fingers and stained his shirt, and by the way the door slammed open and Bobby strode through, looking startled more than anything, he knew he looked one Hell of a sight.

Small fingers were wound tightly into the fabric of his shirt, and Dean had to think a moment before he registered how CJ was curled up to him, clutching at his frame. She was shivering, a blank look on her face as she muttered something in a language he didn’t know to his chest. His body was wracked with second-hand pain when he saw the blood literally pouring from the wounds in her skin, and he resisted the urge to hold her closer.

It just.. Hurt.. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

The sky was dark as Bobby drove across the asphalt, Dean clutching a vaguely conscious CJ to his chest as she muttered continuously in the odd language. She hadn’t let go of him at all since the motel room, and Bobby had taken one look at her, helped him clean her up and ushered him out too the car. They were fixing this, and they were doing it tonight.

“How you holding up there, kid?”

“Aside from the church bells ringing in my head?” Dean scoffed, “Peachy..” He shifted his arms around the clinging girl, flinching when her grip tightened, then relaxed, and she resumed her quiet muttering.

Rolling his eyes back a little, he tried to unhinge one of his hands, hearing the girl whimper, he hesitated, then quickly swiped his phone from his pocket, letting her adjust for a second before falling unconscious again. He brought the phone to his ear after pressing his brothers speed dial, settling back into the seat when it started to ring.

He only waited two rings before his brother picked up with a, “Hey.”

“What are you doing?” his demand was more tired than anything. They’d spent a good five minutes figuring out Sam was gone, not kidnapped, and Bobby had to label him MIA. “Couldn’t sleep, went to get a burger,” Sam admit with an almost sheepish tone.

“In my car?” Dean’s tone rose, more stern than anything, he was more than happy to be back bantering with his brother, but the situation was reaching a peak he wasn’t sure he was prepared for, yet. 

“Sorry. Force of habit. Hey, what are you doing up?”

“Well, uh,” Dean took a glance at the woman in his arms, then Bobby, who sat silently behind the wheel, “Bobby’s back, we’re going to grab a beer.” Bobby sent him a disapproving look, but the soft whimpers at his chest made another thought occur to him, “CJ was whining about being left alone, so we’re bringing her along, too.”

“Alright, well-uh.. Spill some for me, huh?”

“Done,” Dean agreed promptly. “Yeah, I’ll catch ya’ later.” He hung up quickly, and Bobby immediately launched in father mode. “Why the Hell didn’t you tell him-?”

“Because he’d just try to stop us,” was the only thing Dean offered. The body in his lap shifted, a sharp gasp reaching his ears before she shot up in her seat, swinging her arms and bracing herself against the door with a short scream. “Easy-! CJ-! It’s us-! Dean and Bobby-!”

“D-Dean?” she repeated, her hands flew forward and he felt her caressing his jaw and skin, muttering under her breath words he couldn’t quite hear before sagging against him like a wet sack of flour. “Oh, Lollipops.. Don’t die, please.. I.. I don’t think I could handle that, again..”

“I won’t.” He hesitated, his hands hovering above her, but he could feel the trembling of her body against his chest, and he tucked her head beneath his chin as he gripped her tighter. “I.. I’m sorry.. About.. About the hellhound thing..”

“You saved your brother.. Don’t apologize..”

He looked down at her, stunned, “How.. How do you know about that..?”

“Told you..” she murmured, she looked to be on the verge of passing out a final time, “M’ jus’ a prophet without the security detail..”

Dean stayed silent, but less tense, watching her with sullen eyes as he tried to piece together what she had meant. She didn’t want his apologies, because she understood, in a way, or at least understood the circumstance.

Is that why she was all crazy about her attitude swings? Sometimes she was there, and others.. Not so much.. It was like she was really  _ looking _ at everything.. Like she was removed from the situation..

He wasn’t sure what exactly he thought about that...

* * *

CJ sat curled up on her side in the white barn that Dean had set her in. Sigils were painted over every available surface, and a table of weapons was lied out to the side, as well as all the necessary ingredients for the summon. CJ was set out of the way, but he planned to at least wake her before they finished painting. She needed to be awake and alert if they needed to make a run for it at any time.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up,” a boot scuffed the woman’s side, launching back immediately when an arm had shot out to swing at their knee. “Easy-! You’re a peach to wake up, I see.”

“ _ Fuuuuuuck _ ..”

The groan was low, and long, filled with pain as the young woman lied, face down, now, on the barn floor. “Mercy… Mercy, please.. My head.. Make the bells  _ stop _ ..”

“It’ll settle soon,” Dean sighed, crouching down on his heels to put a hand on her shoulder, turning her over so she didn’t suffocate, “Come on, I need you mobile if crap goes sideways.”

“It won’t..” she muttered, getting herself up with a heave and a grunt of pain, slinging her arm around her midsection to feel the bandages curling around her arm and side. “What the Hell..?”

“Patched ya’ up,” he shrugged, looking away as he scratched the side of his cheek and inspected the hundreds of sigils around them intently, “I need you awake, CJ, unlike you, we don’t know what this thing is.”

“Why would it pull you out of Hell just to kill you?” her whisper was met with silence, and she glanced up to see him eyeing her, unblinking and expression neutral, “I’ve told you.. You’ve seen a breed of this kind before, though you’ve never truly met.”

“That’s vague and it annoys me,” the blunt statement left his lips without pause, and the smile that curled across her lips almost made a similar motion twitch at his own. 

“Sorry, Cowboy, I’d rather not be smought.. Smited..? Tonight.. Or anytime soon..”

“I don’t even.. You know what?” he shook his head, blowing out a sigh as he did so. “I’m not asking. Tell me if you want, but if you’ve got some freaky-deaky know-how, I might as well take your word for it. At least,” he amended, seeing the wide eyes she shot him, most likely out of shock, “-until you prove that I  _ can’t _ ..”

“You know,” she sat up abruptly, nearly knocking him off balance until she crossed her legs, sitting up with her hands pressed to the floor, Indian style. “You are the person that damned me to this life. You want to know why?” His jaw ticked at the thought, and the woman merely chuckled, dry and unamused, as she shot him a vague, defeated grin, “It was because of that stupid smile.. You gave that grin, and.. I couldn’t  _ not _ care.. Then  _ Sam _ started shooting puppydog eyes every other night and I just..” She fell silent then, eyes closing slowly as she took a deep breath in, then out, centering herself before she continued, “I want to help you. The pain you have gone through, is unimaginable. But, it gets worse, but then it gets better. Please.. I’m not asking you to pull me into your little family, but, if I give you some advice, at least consider it..”

Dean let their breathing be the only sound left in the barn, and he finally rocked up to his feet, holding out a hand automatically when she’d craned her neck up to him. “Come on. We’ve got Godzilla to catch.”

“Godzilla isn’t real,” she snorted, smiling a little in amusement as she took his hand, and he hauled her to her feet with one smooth pull, and immediately let go, afterwards. “Unicorns. Unicorns are real. Extinct, save for a few places. But real.”

“Seriously?” he shot a look at her in surprise, and she merely grinned, shaking her head. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he huffed, turning to inspect the rest of their arsenal. Bobby was getting the last of it from his trunk as they spoke. Her snort of amusement got his attention, and when he raised an eyebrow in question, her grin turned almost cat-like. “You’re going to be saying that a lot here, pretty soon, Cowboy.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” he muttered under his breath.


	9. Chapter 9

CJ sat perched atop the table, toying with one of the weapons, a machete, from the looks of it, while Bobby painted the last of the sigils on the wall. Dean had run out to get one last thing from the car, as well as some emergency salt she’d admit to putting in Bobby’s back seat during their rest stop on the way to get Sam.

“That’s one Hell of an art project you got going there,” Dean’s voice nearly echoed through the barn, and Bobby looked up from his work to shoot him a roll of his eyes. “Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe.” He set down the can as he moved toward the table, stopping beside Dean as they looked over their assortment. “How we doing?”

“Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife,” he plucked the machete out of CJ’s toying hands, placing it back in it’s spot and pointedly ignoring how she stuck out her tongue at him. “I mean, we’re set to kill anything I’ve ever heard of.”

“This is still a bad idea,” Bobby shook his head slowly, watching silently as CJ reached her fingers out silently to grab the machete again, though Dean, without even a glance, lightly slapped her hand away. She glared at the side of his head, though he didn’t look the least bothered. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they were getting along.

“Yeah, Bobby” Dean nodded in agreement, “I heard ya’ the first ten times.” The men shared a look, while CJ tried her hand for the smaller knife, hissing a little when Dean accurately flicked her hand away again. “Dammit, Dean-! I’m  _ bored- _ !”

“And injured,” was his immediate response. She glared at him sharply, but he was only mildly affected by the off-putting aura, “Knock it off. Stay out of the way, and if I tell you to run, you  _ run _ . Capisce?”

“Tippens is a teddy bear. Trust me. When he warms up to you, you’ll be singing a different hymn.”

“Tippens?” Bobby repeated dubiously, “Is that what it’s called?”

“No, its the nickname I’m gonna call him by,” she flashed him a wide, happy grin, and he suddenly remembered that she was brought here when she was still a teenager. “Tippens sounds cuter than  _ Cas _ . And  _ Cassie _ sounds like  _ Lassie _ , but I’m callin’ Sam,  _ Lucky _ , so there can’t be too many similarly sounding names if I’m calling out a heat-of-the-moment warning..”

“..Your logic is hard to follow, but I’ll take your word for it,” Bobby muttered, shaking his head as he let out a heavy breath. Dean just seemed to clutch heavily at the bridge of his nose, eyes pinched shut as he muttered what sounded like an exorcism under his breath.

Probably to stow away a headache.

Gathering himself again, he shook out his muscles and nodded his chin toward the place they’d set the spell ingredients. “What do you say we ring the dinner bell?”

“I am so glad I brought my camera for this.”

Dean looked over just as CJ pulled the hand-held video camera from the duffel bag she’d forced him to bring, flicking open the screen and holding it eye-level with a wane smile. “First impressions. I’m using this for your wedding, just so you know.”

“Seriously?” he ground out, glancing over to see Bobby in the midst of latin, before turning a darker glare to her, “Are you kidding?”

“He’ll either be the best man or the bride,” she shrugged, flashing him a grin, “Or the priest. You never know.”

And thus, the tense waiting game began in silence.

* * *

The sound of shuffling seemed louder than usual as the barn sat in silence.

Dean looked to his left, opened his mouth, probably to say something snarky, then closed it again, settling back into his seat.

There was a moment where the shuffling stopped, and their heartbeats echoed in their chests, and the cards were placed down between them.

“Balls-!”

The worn blue cards hit the wooden floor with a clatter, and Bobby ran his hands over his face, pushing his last investment forward, a handful of caramels and a bag of M&Ms. CJ grinned, reaching forward and tugging the pile closer to count her loot. A sucker was hanging precariously out of her mouth, and she was grinning like the cat that had gotten the canary  _ and _ the cream. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Singer.”

“That was a bum hand, you brat,” the older male muttered, but the good natured shove he gave to her shoulder was playful and calm. “Deal again.”

“Whatcha’ gonna bet next, your fancy hat?” She pulled out a new supply of M&M bags, the snack-sized ones used in place of chips, original, and, peanut butter, with full sized hershey bars used for the big tickets. They wrote their bets on little scraps of paper she would stick to the bars with little bits of tape.

Dean could only stare in dubious bafflement as they gambled with candy and old blue poker cards. He’d been beconed over some point earlier to begin the game, and twice more during, but he’d rather remain vigilant, even if Bobby seemed to be perfectly capable in trusting her call on this.

He’d rather be safe, not sorry. 

“Nah, probably one of the cars in the lot, I’ll let you fix it up nice, can’t just be using that bike if there’s an emergency..”

“Practical betting..” she nodded slowly, her face etched with poise, “I can dig that.”

“Are you  _ sure _ you did the ritual right?” Dean’s burst of impatience cut whatever Bobby was about to reply clean off, the impatience in his voice making his eyes roll heavenward before returning to him again. Dean glanced at his expression briefly before backing off, his knee bouncing up and down as he lowered his head. “..Sorry. Touchy-touchy, huh?”

As if on cue, a burst of wind rocked the barn, sending Bobby to his feet while CJ barely jumped, remaining in her seated position as she thumbed out her winnings. The boys were tense as the iron roof plates rattled and lifted with the force, clanging and crashing as the air howled around them.

“So dramatic..” she mumbled, chancing a glance up when she caught the edge of Dean’s shoe come into her line of sight, “Don’t you kick me, I know you want to, but damn, boy, relax.”

“I’ll relax when it’s dead,” he hissed back quietly, barely heard over the loud echoing crashes..

“Correction;” she stood then, lifting her earnings with a makeshift basket by using her shirt, pointing her free hand up at him like a school teacher, “You  _ cry _ when it dies.. Multiple times.. Dying is practically a rite of passage for the Winchester family, isn’t it?”

One by one, the lights burst, sending sparks and glass in every direction. CJ ducked her head a bit, almost squealing when she felt Dean’s large, rough arm swinging around her and drawing he away from the doorway as it unhinged, then opened with a mighty slam.

Polished black shoes entered the barn, and pale blue eyes looked from right to left, surveying the room with curiosity. CJ hauled herself beside Dean, out of his embrace, to take a good, long look at the thing standing in the doorway. Had she had any decent food in her stomach, she may have thrown it up.

Blue, dark, _ royal _ blue wings sprouted from his back, flicking idly in a soft manner, as if testing the air like a snake. Her muscles locked, and her eyes flew wide. Seeing the fear on her face, Dean must have assumed the worst, because she was suddenly completely behind him, and her view was blocked by his broad, muscled back.

The darked haired male, dressed in a clean suit, and a skewed tie, walked directly through the traps and sigils, his eyes now centered directly on the righteous man he’d been ordered to pull from the damned. His trenchcoat, just a tad dirty, but not quelling his overall charm and appeal, fluttered lightly in the breeze of both the energy pressing around them and in wake of his wings. 

As he neared the halfway point of the building, the two human males had begun firing. Salt rounds that pierced his skin, and tore his clothes, but did not make him flinch. He seemed unaffected, relaxed even, as he stepped closer and closer to the man he had reassembled, the elder Winchester reaching behind him quickly to move the girl in stride as he hid her from the creature’s view.

Castiel’s head ticked to the side as he narrowed his eyes, almost a glare. He couldn’t sense her. At all. He’d only gotten a glimpse of her, before the righteous man had moved to shield her completely from his sight.

“Who are you?” the blonde’s demand was quiet, but stern, one arm holding the woman behind him, almost completely out of the unknown male’s sight, and the other brandishing a knife lined with symbols and carvings. “ _ Your future boyfriend..”  _ the whisper was almost too low for him to catch over the howling wind.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” the creature stated solemnly. A tad bit too emotionless to be comforting. Dean almost scoffed aloud, having heard similar words from the woman directly behind him. “ _ Oh my lollipops, he actually said it- and I got it on camera-!” _

_ Speaking of.. _

“Yeah,” Dean nodded once, gritting his teeth a bit when he felt the woman behind him whimper softly, a sound almost suspiciously close to a laugh. “Thanks for that.”

He lunged forward with a single step, and his knife found its mark with a squelch.

“ _ That sounded absolutely disgusting. Eww..” _

He was tempted to tell her to shut up, but the more glaringly obvious, pressing matter that stood in front of him was not fazed in the slightest of the demon knife sitting square in his heart.

“ _ Awkward..” _

“CJ, shut up-!”

His annoyance cut over his common sense, and he shot a look over his shoulder to see the woman, pale-faced and jittering, but giving a sleek, fox-like smile toward the two of them as she held out the camera, red light shining, and her hands trembling. “Aww.. but you  _ need _ my commentary for the gag reel..”

She was scared.

Why did that put him on edge. Wasn’t she all gung ho about this thing-?! Did she suddenly change her mind-?

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, and the creature lifted its hand to dislodge the knife, tossing it away with a careless turn of it’s wrist.

“ _ Still sounds so gross..” _

“CJ just  _ shut up _ for a minute-!”

“Dean I am  _ COPING _ with the situation right now-!”

Bobby took the creature’s momentary distraction to swing at it with the tire iron, both hunters tensing in surprise when, without looking, it held up it’s arm, catching the weapon in its palm and spinning on its heel to face him. Holding up two fingers, the creature pressed them to the elder male’s head, slowly allowing him to crumple to the floor in a heap.

The creature turned back to the two still-standing humans once more, his expression relaxed, with just the faintest hint of urgency in his eyes. “We need to talk, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes shot from Bobby, who lied sprawled on the ground, back to the creature, his back muscles coiling as he shifted from one foot to the other, not allowing CJ to be in any way in the creature’s line of sight. 

“Alone,” the creature emphasized, seeing his shifting eyes, and the camera peeking over his shoulder, the small hand attached to it giving a soft tremble, but keeping it relatively steady.

“She’s fine just where she is,” Dean muttered, his eyes hard, “Talk.”

* * *

CJ sat beside Dean, right next to Bobby, her jacket off and folded tightly so she could put it under his head. She’d given the fearful Winchester a soft nod when he’d rushed over, pressing his fingers to his neck just for reassurance, and forcing him not to smother the unconscious man.

“Your friend is alive,” the creature assured him quietly, looking over the aged book in his hands with a sort of reverence only the barest touch of humanity could give to something completely ethereal. Dean shot his eyes up to him in stony silence, the exhaustion beneath them clear as day. 

“Who are you?”

“Castiel,” he offered simply his attention still divided.

“Yeah, I figured that,” Dean bit out sharply, wetting his lips before he continued, “ _ What _ are you?”

“Here it comes..” CJ muttered under her breath, plucking the camera she had put on the floor up to aim it directly at the two. Dean kept his eyes solely on the pale skinned man, unwilling to look away.

Finally, Castiel seemed compelled to be courteous, and lifted his head from the text, turning his eyes directly to Dean with a calm, serious tone. “I am an angel of the Lord.”

Dean flicked his eyes along him quickly, doubt clear on his face. The creature smiled a bit, unused to the facial muscles and the tongue in his mouth. 

“Get the Hell out of here,” Dean demanded slowly. He gradually got to his feet, keeping himself directly between the man in the suit and his two companions. His tone was hard, and his eyes were unforgiving. “There’s no such thing.”

Castiel moved from the table, then, meeting Dean’s eyes as he stood up straighter, lifting his chin with programmed pride for his father, and an ingrained loyalty only dogs seemed to have anymore. “This is your problem, Dean.” His voice was cool, and relaxed, a far cry from the obvious tension in the Winchester’s. “You have no faith.”

A thundering clap echoed throughout the room, and CJ flinched at the bright light that soared from behind them, illuminating the already magnificent blue wings in an even finer glory. She knew, however, that Dean could have only seen the shadows that, that brief, precious second of light had given him to outline the magnificent arcs.

“He _does_ have faith,” CJ’s voice was stronger than it was before, and she used the back of Dean’s coat to haul herself to her feet. She could now fully see the man in front of them, Dean making no move to stop her when she gave his shoulder a sharp squeeze, and stepped up to be directly beside him, “He has faith in _his_ family. And I have faith in _him_. It is _I_ whom holds no faith toward _your_ father.”

It was silent, and the angel seemed to be trying to bore his eyes deep into her being, if that wasn’t what he was already doing. His brow was tense with concentration, and the smallest hint of frustration had tugged at his lips.

“Some angel you are,” Dean spoke after a few moments of silence, “You nearly made that poor woman go blind.” Castiel ducked his head, clearly chastised, but unwilling to lower it for too long. He stepped forward with an air of nonchalance. “I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be.. Overwhelming.. To humans.. And so can my real voice..” His tone was even, and explanatory, and as he spoke, he flicked his eyes between the two humans evenly, although his gaze lingered on the woman that stood beside his charge. “But you knew that.”

When she offered no words, Dean continued, not skipping a beat as he met Castiel’s eyes. “You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you  _ talking- _ ?” 

Castiel gave a silent, innocent nod. “Buddy..” And Dean, despite his judgement, couldn’t help the sarcasm that left his lips. “Next time lower the volume..”

Castiel nodded again, clearly taking his words to heart and mentally taking notes. CJ could see the cogs working behind his eyes. She had questions. A  _ lot _ of questions. But she couldn’t ask them. Not quite yet.

“It was my mistake.”

“He sounds even cuter than he looks, Dean, can we keep him?”

The blonde shot her a look, but she was back in her perpetually terrified go-to, grinning like a loon and beaming toward him. He, at least, had figured that much about her. She was serious when she was calm. When she got antsy, so should he.

“Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage, I had thought you might be one of them..”

A low keening sound left the woman at his side, and Dean shot his eyes to her when she abruptly flinched back, ducking behind him and clutching the camera to her chest. “Okay- That’s it- I give- I cannot deal- I cannot do this- Oh christ- oh fuck-  _ Please  _ put those things away _..  _ Or at least don’t wave them around-!” Dean’s mouth opened to question her, one hand falling back to clutch at her elbow, but a soft hum from the creature had his gaze returning sharply to the man in front of them. His blue eyes were now wider, if only a tad, tilting his head as he peered around the Winchester to see the woman. “You can see, some of me, can’t you? And you spoke to me, when the woman was close to being irreparably injured-”

“And you will be fixing that-!” her voice was sharp, and shrill, as she swung her hand out from behind Dean to point accusingly at the angel, “If you can cure blindness, you are fixing whatever damage you’ve done to her eyes. They didn’t completely get destroyed, but they  _ are _ damaged.”

It was quiet, again, and CJ sucked in another loud, shuddering breath, before tucking herself back behind Dean. She knew for a fact that Castiel would not hurt Dean, so she was in no way hindered by the urge to protect him.

“And what  _ visage _ are you in, now, huh?” the bitterness had returned to Dean’s voice as he brought up the prior issue, “What, holy tax accountant?” A small laugh echoed behind him, and he  _ almost  _ twitched back to swat at the camera he knew was peeking over his shoulder again.

“This?” Castiel pulled at the lapels of his now bloodied trench coat, inspecting his clothes briefly before looking up at Dean with the same level of neutrality he’d retained throughout the entire exchange, “This is a vessel.”

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?” Dean scoffed, he couldn’t believe the audacity some creatures seemed to have toward human life. 

Castiel, however, had an argument, or more, statement, to sway that complaint, “He’s a devout man.. And he actually prayed for this.” He seemed so sure of himself, and justified in his actions. Dean was having none of it. “Look pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling. So who are you, really?”

“I told you,” Castiel stated simply, the softest furrow in his brow as he tried to understand this man. Was he  _ not _ the righteous man? Shouldn’t the righteous man have more faith than anyone? Shouldn’t they believe and pray the deepest? He was certain, and faithful to his superiors, so perhaps there was something about this man that he was unable to currently see..

Dean, dissatisfied with the answer, clicked his tongue, and adjusted his stance, feeling the firm grip on the back of his coat loosen gradually with each, even breath he took. “Right. And why would an  _ angel _ .. ..rescue  _ me _ from Hell-?”

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel’s voice was soothing, and CJ had to step out from behind Dean when she heard Castiel getting closer, positioning her body quickly so she was directly beside him again, then moving her foot forward, a frown on her face that mimicked Dean’s when his hoarse voice cut through. “Not in my experience.”

CJ held her shoulders high, and glared sharply at the angel when he had met her eyes. “Not on this planet. There is always  _ something _ going on behind the curtains. That’s just how it is when you all preach about the bigger picture. You’re the only ones who are ever around for it, anyway, so why should you care about the blips on the credits screen?”

His eyes flickered with confusion, but she had said what she needed, feeling a sort of grounding sensation flow from her back in warm waves when she felt the flat of Dean’s palm press against her spine.

“What’s the matter with you two?” Castiel was genuinely curious, and confused, and it hurt more than CJ cared to admit. His eyes found Dean’s, and he read his eyes and soul like a billboard. “You don’t think you deserved to be saved?”

Dean swallowed, the adam's apple in his throat bobbing with the strain of keeping himself together. The weight against his palm pressed back, and he reflexively curled his fingers into the soft, fleece-like material, his eyes flickering closed as he felt something, something he wasn’t certain about, curl around his body like a protective shield. He felt as if it were a physical mask, so when he opened his eyes, and saw nothing there, he dismissed it as nerves. “Why’d you do it?”

Castiel, unused to the dryness of the vessel’s mouth, licked his lips softly before he answered, his words slow, and calculating, as he kept his eyes locked with the tightly-wound hunter. 

“Because  _ God _ , commanded it.”

They met eyes, and CJ could feel her hair sticking on end, the need to protect Dean from future ailments clashing with the need to run in the opposite direction and pretend she’d never met the magnetic duo of disaster at all.

“Because we have work for you.”

And it was with those words that CJ knew. 

She was never going to be able to turn around.


	10. A Look at How Perspective Works...

“Tell me what else it could have been-?!”

“All I know is I was  _ not _ groped by an angel.”

CJ scrubbed resolutely at the tin she had used to make the casserole they’d had for lunch. Currently, a pie was in the oven, as well as a tray of cookies.

She’d had to smack Dean’s hands repeatedly away from both mixtures throughout the entire cooking process. They’d been home for three days now, and Dean had finally caved in Sam’s pestering about where they had gone. Hence the argument that was now blowing up in the kitchen. Sam had tried, multiple times, in demanding that CJ either confirm or deny the fact that Castiel was an angel, but her expression remained blank, and she kept silent. She hadn’t spoken at all since that night, other than quietly asking Bobby what he would like to eat for each meal, or if he’d needed a refill with his beer.

She couldn’t even look at the boys unless they were standing directly in front of her. She was sick to her stomach, wanting nothing more than for this all to have been one long, elaborate dream..

That she’d wake up with drool on her face, ruining her laptop while she lied sprawled on her bed, effectively late for her krav maga class, or even her morning lecture, if she’d slept long enough.

“Okay Dean, why do you think this “Castiel” would lie about it?” Sam demanded.

No, she wasn’t waking up from this.. And that was was scared her more.

“Maybe it’s some kind of demon, huh-? Demons lie-!” Dean was adamant about this, and he didn’t look ready to back down anytime soon.

She set the now cleaned tin in the drying rack, wiping her hand on the dish towel as she ignored the men not five feet away from her as they argued heatedly. She slowly untied her apron and glanced at the timer. There was still a few minutes before it would be time to pull out the cookies, and another two for the pie. Turned to open the fridge, she was once again struck with the sound of their argument.

_ Oh how I wish this would end..  _ But that would have been mercy, wouldn’t it?

“A demon who’s immune to salt rounds-? And devils traps-? And Ruby’s knife-?!” Sam threw up his hands in exasperation, “Dean,  _ Lilith _ is scared of that thing-!”

“Don’t you think that if angels were real, some hunter, somewhere.. Would have seen one..?” his voice raised a pitch in his frustration, “.. at some point, ever-?!” CJ plucked two beers from the fridge before closing it with her hip, darting past the duo in silence; she did not want to be dragged into this conversation  _ again _ .

“Yeah..” Sam gave a nod, “You just did, Dean..”

Dean rolled his neck pointedly, running his hands quickly through his hair in what almost resemble anxiety, “I’m trying to come up with a theory here, okay? Work with me-! CJ-!”

Said woman flinched as she held the beer out to the hunter crouched over a large Christian text, having lifted his eyes at the offering and given her an expression that showed both his exasperation at her sudden Paula-Deen behavior, as well as slight sympathy for the boys constant bickering. “Tell Sam that angels don’t exist-!”

“Smite me, Winchester,” she barked, the abrupt, loud snap, causing the boys to jolt. It was the first time she’d talked to them in days and the expression she gave them was nearly feral, “Leave me  _ out of it _ . I am  _ not _ getting dragged between the two of you. I will not take sides. If one or both of you is in danger, then I will step in, but otherwise- _ ignore _ me-!”

They flicked their eyes away from her silultaniously, eyes lowering in various levels of guilt, Dean more so than Sam. Letting out a heavy sigh, the taller of the two returned to their conversation, “Dean, we  _ have _ a theory.”

“Yeah, one with a little less fairy-dust on it, please,” Dean requested petulantly, running his hands over his face roughly. He hadn’t been getting much sleep.

“Okay look,” Sam insisted again, his hands were still moving with her words, CJ almost wanted to call him desperate, “I’m not saying we know for sure, I’m just saying that I think--”

“Okay-, okay-” Dean cut him off quickly, one hand moving toward his brother in an effort to stop him in his tracks, the other grounding himself by gripping his hip. “That’s the point. We don’t know for sure. So I’m not going to believe that this thing is a freakin’ _ angel of the Lord  _ because it says so-!”

CJ saw the exact moment Bobby stepped in, the near exact moment  _ after _ she had flinched at Dean’s final outburst.

“You two chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion? Or you wanna come take a look at this?”

CJ perched on the edge of his desk, glancing down to the page he had opened, tracing the detailed image with her hazel eyes. 

“I got stacks of lore, Biblical.. Pre-Biblical,” Bobby began once the boys had finally come inside the room, glancing hesitantly at the woman beside him before coming closer, “..some of it’s in damn cuneiform..” “I can read that,” the woman piped up, gaining the room’s immediate attention, although her eyes stayed locked on the strange symbols, “I can read most everything short of the word of God, I’m guessing.. And those tablets are a literal headache I don’t even want to attempt..”

“What languages do you know-?” Sam asked quietly, his mouth pressing into a tight line when she reached out her finger to trace almost lovingly along the border of the drawing. “I know two, I guess, English and I’m calling it Celestial. Celestial is literally every language combined, so any other language is like tuning into radio after a few seconds..”

“Couldn’t have told me that earlier?” Bobby scoffed, raising an eyebrow when she gave him a sheepish smile, “...Have I mentioned that I hate screwing with the events surrounding those two?” The boys shared a brief look, and Bobby shook his head with a sigh, turning the book in his hands around with a firm tap, “It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit.”

“What else?” Dean demanded.

“What else, what?” Bobby scoffed.

“What else could do it?” Dean repeated shortly, he rubbed at the print on his arm subconsciously, the muscles in his back noticeably untightening when he felt a grip settle against the back of his neck and give a smooth, pressed knead. 

“Airlift your ass out of the hotbox?” Bobby met his eye, and if he could see that CJ was lifting an arm awkwardly to the now slowly relaxing Winchester’s shoulder blades, he didn’t say anything. “As far as I can tell, nothing.”

Bobby sat back in his chair, reaching for his new beer and popping the seal for a sip. Dean let out a slow, deep breath, feeling the hand fall away from his back as Sam started to speak, his left hand twitching toward the woman, but remaining stubbornly at his side.

“Dean this is good news,” Sam insisted, much more quiet than their previous argument had been.

“How?”

“Because for once,” Sam seemed elated now, his eyes lighting up in excitement and awe as he finally felt the justification to his idea, “this isn’t just another round of demon crap. I mean- maybe you were saved by one of the good guys-”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” CJs voice cut him off sharply, and when he shot his eyes to her, her palm was raised out toward him sternly, eyes narrowed when she’d gotten their attention again, “First of all, that is a dangerous line of thinking, so stop it now. There is no such thing as a good or bad guy. Only morals drawn by the individual wrought by their experience in life. So, cliff notes? Black and white doesn’t exist, the world is a thousand shades of grey, and angels are, in a large majority douchebags, with litteral holier-than-thou attitudes and disregard for human existence.”

“So they are real?” Sam breathed. 

“Did you not just hear what I-” CJ cut herself off when the timer dinged, and she shot Sam an expression that was unreadable, before she turned on her heal and stopped off in silence.

“Okay,” Dean had trailed his eyes after the female walking away, but when he’d notice Sam ding the same, he’d brought himself forcefully back to the present, “Say it’s true. Say there are.. angels. Then what, there’s a  _ God _ ?”

“You meet  _ him _ , too-!”

The shout brought their attention to the woman in the kitchen, the female currently hunched over the tray she held of round, steaming cookies, the scent of chocolate drifting through the room as she stood up, “Mid Twenty-sixteen, if I’m not mistaken..”

“We.. we meet  _ God _ ..?” Sam repeated breathlessly.

“The Father of all and world’s biggest coward?” the sarcasm was thick as she perked up, feigning curiosity, “Why wouldn’t you-? Shit seems to hit the fan whenever good starts going for you.”

“Well aren’t you a bucket of sunshine, today?” Dean huffed, giving her a look of absolute doneness. 

“The pie’s almost done, Cowboy.”

Those five words had something warm churning around him again, and he shook it off with a physical shudder and a shake of his head. “I.. I don’t know, guys..”

“I- I know you’re not all choir boy about this stuff,” Sam tried to shake himself back into the present, trying as hard as he could to get his brother on board with the situation. “But this is becoming less and less about faith, and more and more about proof.”

“Proof?”

“Yes.”

“Proof that there’s a God out there that actually gives a crap about me, personally?”

“I’m not stepping into that shit,” CJ muttered, setting the piece of pie she’d cut out directly on the table in front of Dean, the fork sitting precariously on the edge of the plate, and setting another piece down for Bobby, “Apple cinnamon pie, if you want ice cream, there’s vanilla in the freezer”

Dean hesitated to pick up the plate as she turned and walked away, her back straight and her hair swaying behind her as she wiped her hands on a small dish towel. 

“I’m not buying it,” Dean admit after she had disappeared around the door, the sound of her steps echoing through the house, and out the front with a loud click.

“Why not,” Sam asked quietly

“Because why me?” Dean insisted again. 

Bobby let out a sigh through his nose, reaching forward for his plate and cut off a piece of the sweet dessert as the two argued.

“If there is a God out there, why would he give a  _ crap  _ about me?”

The bite hovered inches from his mouth, and both men found themselves staring directly at the elder Winchester, wound up to the point of shifting on his feet while his hands clenched and unclenched restlessly at his sides. “Dean-” Sam had tried to interrupt, but the Winchester had been quick to cut him off, “Yeah, I’ve saved some people. I figure that made up for the stealing, and, and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved-? I’m just a regular guy-!”

“Apparently you’re a regular guy, that’s important to the man upstairs,” Sam’s relaxed, thoughtful conclusion only seemed to make Dean more uncomfortable.

“Well that creeps me out.” He scoffed, shaking his head as he absentmindedly reached out to grab the plate, “I mean, I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by  _ God. _ ” As he cut his fork into the pie, barely thinking about whatsoever, his brother lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Well, too bad, Dean.. Because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat.”

Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head as he pointed his fork, now loaded with a bite toward the book, “Fine, ah.. What-ah.. What about-” A moan cut his words off, and both boys glanced down to see Bobby with a fork stuck in his mouth, eyes closed. “Mother of God..”

Dean hesitated at the sight of the older man, glancing down at the plate he had suddenly realized was in his hands, before glancing at his slightly weirded out brother. Slowly giving a shrug he lifted the fork to his lips, his eyes flickering shut as a louder, more relaxed moan passed his lips. “ _ Holy _ .. Mmnn _ ” _

“You guys need a minute?” Sam asked quietly, shuffling one foot back while a smile toyed at his lips. 

“What the Hell did she put in this-?” Dean muttered, looking down at the treat, now held almost delicately by the plate in front of him, “We have more, right? She said she made more..”

“Don’t you go eatin’ all that on your own, boy, last I checked she was mad at you both.”

“Why, though?” Sam asked quietly, glancing briefly toward the direction of the front door, just in case she had suddenly barged inside, before turning back to the two grown men now nursing their food, “One minute she’s happy, the next she’s cold.”

“She’s never happy, if she grins like a loon, it means she’s terrified.” Deans statement had both hunters staring at him in silence, and he helped another bite into his mouth before he addressed them with a glare, “You really think she’s that easy to switch moods?” 

“Well.. she  _ was _ in a mental institution..” Sam defended quietly. The look Dean gave him was almost a physical smack to the back of the head.

“She’s from the future, and she gets psychic visions more than you even use to. Hers are every night.”

“Whenever she sleeps,” Bobby corrected cooly, shaking his head when they had turned to him, “She tries not to sleep at night for that reason, or if she falls asleep in the middle of the day, same thing.”

It was silent, and they sobered, and Dean took another, long look at the book on the desk.

“Fine. What do we know about angels.”


	11. Chapter 11

CJ sat atop the tallest tower of busted cars, one leg swinging softly back and forth as she scanned the makes and models.

She prefered something smaller, but if it came down to it, she was up to remodeling a truck.

“Find anything?”

The voice below her didn’t surprise her, though the level of covered concern it held, did.

“Just a couple bodies, the rest is easy findings,” she called down calmly. She stayed perched on the bent hood, glaring down a bit when she noticed the elder Winchester eye the structure openly, probably judging how physically stable it was and looking back up to her expectantly. “You wanna come down here?”

“Not really,” was the smooth answer.

“CJ,” her name rolled off his tongue calmly, and he swallowed, before shaking his head, and reaching forward to grasp the nearest piece of metal, “Don’t move.”

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing-?! Do you want tetanus-?!”

A thump on the ground sounded beside him and he saw the woman hurriedly righting her balance, shooting him a look of irritation and clear exhaustion. “Don’t climb that. I did it because I am small and light, you are large and muscled, I do not advise that.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked calmly, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned back against the pile, one ankle kicking up so his toes dragged in the packed dirt, “Don’t even deny it. Bobby’s seen you pouring over books when he goes to bed, and you’re still at it when he wakes up most nights.”

“Sleeping makes me have visions, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” she rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and plopping herself onto the dirt, her back facing him as she sat Indian-style on the ground. “What do you even care?”

“I don’t, I just dont need you half-dead in a crucial moment where if we’re not quick, we die.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Dean Winchester?”

Her question was met with silence, and both adults closed their eyes, sitting in the silence broken only by the wind and the insects around them.

“Ask.”

“What?” he broke out of his relaxed trance with a snap, turning his head down to see her dragging her fingers through the dirt slowly, making small trenches with the ends of her nails. 

“Ask me what you want to,” she rephrased her words slowly, not turning her head or even acknowledging that he stood towering behind her. “I know you want to ask.”

“I don’t.”

The statement caught her off guard, and she managed to turn her head just enough to see him from the corner of her eye. Dean kept his eyes locked on the house in the distance, tracing the outline with his pale green eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t know why you seem to think you’re just a magic eight ball, but we, me, Sam and Bobby, we don’t work like that.. This.. this is hard for you, just like it is for us.. And I know you’re uncomfortable, you can’t really hide that..”

“What are you trying to say, Winchester?” she asked quietly, leaning her arm back so he could see a better portion of her torso, the red flannel unbuttoned down the center, leaving her dark blue tank top in sight, the straps of her black bra peeking out into view. He almost smacked himself for glancing at her chest, reminding himself that this was a serious conversation, even if his eyes hadn’t strayed any lower.

“Just.. I just wanted you to know that we’re not going to use you, like you seem to think that we will.”

“I’ll believe that when you prove it,” was the only thing she offered. Getting to her feet, she dusted off the back of her pants, holding out her forearm to him firmly, “Promise me you won’t question my life choices and we’ll be fine. I have an agenda, I’ve told you that. Plans that need seen through if I want to prevent a shit-ton of death.”

“I thought you hated the big picture,” he scoffed. She smiled, then, a grim twist of lips that had his stomach turning in similar unease, “I do.” She nodded, lifting a hand to push the fringe of her bangs from her eyes, “But the death is only a blip in the credits, for all of this piling shit.”

She stood, unmoving, as she held out her arm, and ever so slowly, he lifted his, tapping them together lightly and holding them there for a long, silent moment. When it was broken, by the sound of the eldest hunter calling for them, they lowered their arms, sharing a single, knowing glance, and moved to head back to the house.

* * *

“Where’d Sam go?” she asked quietly, sitting precariously on a stack of tires, eyeing the shining black Impala as it entered the yard with no small level of awe. It was the first time she’d actually taken a good look at it. Dean had taken one look at her expression and practically fluffed up with pride for his baby. “He went to get chips, we seemed to have ran out.” He gave her a pointed look, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Have you ever  _ had _ doritos? They are, like, the  _ king _ of all chips.”

“No, french onion and cheddar ruffles.”

“Damn,” she muttered, actually caught there as she gave him a slow, narrow-eyed nod, “Alright, I’ll call truce.”

Bobby came back out of the house with a worn grey duffel, tossing it to Dean so he could place it into the protected encasement of his Chevelle trunk. 

The Impala finally rolled to a stop as it pulled up beside the Chevelle, and CJ’s eyes poured over the beautiful machine with no small level of appreciation. 

“Keep the engine running.” Bobby was quick to walk over, leaning down to address the brunette behind the wheel.

“Why, what’s going on?” Sam sounded a bit concerned, but also a bit on edge. Bobby didn’t seem to notice. CJ, however, spot it like an emergency light. Looks like she needed to give Ruby a call..

Bobby leaned forward on the window ledge for a better vantage point, “I got a friend, one state over, Olivia Lowry. I’ve been trying to reach her for three days on this angel thing. It’s not like her to ignore this many calls.”

“Olivia Lowry- a hunter, right?” Sam confirmed. Bobby, nodded, letting out the quiet, nervous breath he’d been harboring, “We’re gonna go check on her. You guys follow me.”

CJ waved a bit when Dean walked over, basically claiming the drivers seat and dictating Sam to shotgun, with a silent, reverent sigh, she hopped down from the tires, and grabbed her bag, stepping over to Bobby’s Chevelle and tapping on the glass. “Room for one more?”

“Hop in,” he nodded his chin, and she smiled, tucking herself inside and closing the door carefully. She tucked her bag by her feet, and adjusted herself in her seat before flashing him a grin, “I don’t mind whatever music you want to listen to, it’s literally all older to me, anyway.”

“You’re a surprisingly easy shotgun,” he gruffed, glancing over when a red bag was held out to him, and he accepted the small packet with a role of his eyes, “Do you eat anything  _ but _ M&M’s, girl?”

“My go-to for any and all of life’s questions,” she rolled her shoulders in a careless shrug, and settled in for a long ride.

* * *

“Olivia-?”

Bobby’s voice echoed through the silent house, and CJ shut the door behind her quietly. Sam glanced back at her briefly at the sound, glancing from her recently-brushed hair, to the sawed off that had been unceremoniously shoved into her chest by Dean, and the rolled-up sleeves of her teal colored flanel.

She looked up at him when she’d felt his gaze, and as Bobby walked deeper into the house, Dean at his flank, they shared a silent, searching look, before moving to follow.

He would ask her, later.

Bobby seemed to have stopped cold at the opening to the next room, his gun hanging by his side as the brothers caught up to him and stared. There was a torso on the ground, female, judging by the length of hair, and her torso was torn from the inside outward.

CJ gulped a little, feeling the bile touch the back of her throat at the rotting, sick smell, and shoved herself out of the way as Bobby turned around and hurried to leave the house. She swallowed harshly, lifting a hand to cover her mouth and nose as she hurried to follow the boys inside. She looked around at the simplistic decor, flinching at the sight of the body again, before forcing her eyes away.

“Salt line,” Sam’s voice cut through her mantra of the Latin alphabet, and she tore her eyes from the ceiling to the doorway in question. Glancing up, she saw the closet, opened, with the weapons on display. Frowning, she tensed her shoulders, and lowered her hand, breathing through her mouth to stand the stench. “What do we do about the weapons? Someone is going to come to investigate, eventually, she can’t be caught with them..”

“We should tell Bobby..” Dean murmured after a moment, glancing solemnly at the body before turning his gaze to CJ who stood huddled near the panel now, looking just a tad green. His eyebrows furrowed, watching her hands twist around her gun in a rhythmic motion. “You can wait outside, you know?” He jerked his chin toward the doorway when she barely looked up, for emphasis adding, “Maybe you should ask Bobby what our next move is.. Sam and I can finish up around here..”

A clatter came from behind them, and the object of their conversation strolled in, none too graceful, looking dazed. “I called some other hunters nearby..”

“Well that’s good, we could use the help,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded slowly, but the pure, unadulterated dread in his eyes was not missed by any of the adults, “Except they ain’t answering their phones, either..”

“Somethin’s up, huh?” Sam confirmed.

“You think?” Bobby scoffed. His eyes trailed back to the body and the ground, closed, then opened, and he turned around to resolutely leave the apartment once again.

* * *

“We’ve checked up on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams,” Bobby’s voice was loud compared to the silence of the Chevelle, and CJ sat in equal silence over the box in her arms. The trunk was loaded with the hunter gear they’d had to clean out, lest their previous owners be given bad names or placed fines on existing family. “They’ve redecorated. In  _ red _ .”

CJ had held off the vomit for two houses, Olivias and Carl’s, but when they’d gotten to Adam’s she’d lost her stomach promptly in a trash can in a neighboring lot. Bobby had held back her hair, but said nothing, and they did there job in resolute, synchronized silence.

“I don’t know,” Bobby’s voice continued after a few beats, Dean had most likely asked something, “But until we find out, you guys better get your asses to my place.”

He clicked the phone shut, and no sooner had they pulled up to the house, CJ had rushed to his side of the car, and slammed his door shut. “Girl, what in the Hell are you-”

“Let me check the house, first,” she demanded calmly, he took one look at her pale, gaunt face, and his features slowly hardened. “If there’s a ghost in there-”

“It’ll pick off a hunter,” she finished firmly. “I’m not a hunter. I didn’t piss it off.”

He eyed her for a few seconds, seeing the pleading in her eyes grow with every second, and he let his head briefly fall back against the seat, before he jerked his chin toward the trunk, “Get the salt guns, iron, anything you need. Now. If you’re not back out here in five minutes, I’m going in.” “Give me ten,” she shook her head, pursing her lips when he turned his disapproving look at her.

“..Fine.”

The trunk, when it had been closed, let a resounding slam echo through the yard. She brandished the iron chains around her shoulder like a lasso, clutching the sawed off and loading the salt rounds into her belt as she ran quickly up the steps and slipped inside.

The second the door had closed, she’d rushed to the research room, tearing open the large bag of salt she’d gotten from Olyvia’s, and lining the doorways. She’d lined the windows, as well, making a good circle around the desk and fireplace, as well as taking the chain and wrapping it around the window latches, barring the shutters together.

When she’d finished, she nodded quietly, the lights hadn’t started flickering, but she was unwilling to let this happen any slower than it had. She ran for the upstairs in a burst of speed, forcing the doorway in the hall closet open and carting down the large, heavy red box so she could put it under the living room desk.

Hurrying outside, still holding her gun up and ready, she waited for Bobby to come inside, his own gun up and visible as he did the same and hurried up the steps. When he’d taken a good look at what she’d done to his living room, he opened his mouth, shut it, and gave her a long, serious look. When she merely blinked, not saying anything, he shook his head, and looked pointedly toward the handful of books left on the desk.

* * *

“Crap..” The power died around midnight, and the laughter of the little girls echoed loudly through the halls all throughout the night, Bobby sat awake, pouring over the books she’d picked out for him, letting the brunette sit as guard with the shotgun in her lap and a stony expression on her face. When the power had finally been cut off by the vindictive twin girls, she’d merely stood up, went beneath the couch, and pulled out a large case of candles in various lengths.

“What  _ didn’t _ you remember to pack for this little joyride?” he asked slowly, watching as she lit candle after candle and placed them pointedly at his desk, using small plates as saucers and lighting them with a worn grey zippo. 

“Well,” she sniffed, giving him a slow, calculating look, “I have no intention of using a bucket, so I hope you can hold it until about six.. That’s around the time the boy’s will be here.”

“ _ Great. _ ”

* * *

“Bobby-?!”

“Living room-!”

The boys, who had entered the house, guns drawn and tense, jumped a bit at the call from just a room or two away. Keeping their guns level, they shared a look, hurrying past the corners and taking sweeps of the hallways before they reached the opening for the main library. 

“Hello boys,” the lone female nodded towards them, a british lilt to her voice that her grin meant she had quoted something, “How was  _ your _ night?”

Dean and Sam stood in silence as they stared at the rings and lines of salt, iron chains hanging from the windows, locking them tightly together, a case of candles spread out over every available table surface, and what looked like several broken hula hoops piled in one corner. CJ currently had one in hand, a bag of salt slouching over her shoulder as she poured it into the hollowed tube.

“Sam got beat up in the men’s bathroom and I almost had a heart-attack when I couldn’t get ahold of Bobby. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Little boy’s room,” she shrugged. She continued with her task, weighing the hoop in her hands before setting it back down and continuing to pour the salt in the little funnel. Her voice was low now, calm, and she sounded almost relaxed as she asked, “Why does Sam’s face look like it was introduced romantically with a semi?”

“A ghost appeared at a truck stop.. It was… His name was Henricksen, and he died.. Lilith killed him..” Sam had worked his jaw to let out the words, his eyebrows pinching together when she set down the salt, then twisted the hoop back together and stood up again, settling it around her waist and tossing it sharply before fixing it into a smooth twirl.

“What are you doing?” Dean couldn’t help but ask as they stepped inside the salted room, careful not to break any of the lines as they eyed her up and down slowly, confusion and something else replacing anything else they may have been thinking.

“Making sure the hoop doesn’t snap and send salt everywhere.”

Her response was clipped, and after a minute more of silence, she seemed satisfied, and let it clatter to the ground. She kicked it up with the toe of her boot, and caught it with her hand, holding it out to Dean with a blank expression. “If you want to leave this room, you wear this. No exceptions.”

“It’s a hula hoop,” Dean repeated immediately, staring at the sparkling green child’s toy with more than a little bit of exasperation, “What will that possibly do to help in this situation?”

“Aside from being an unbroken ring of salt?”

Sam flicked his eyebrows up at the sassy comeback, watching his brother grimace in distaste, opening his mouth again, most likely to demand a better solution, but when a flush sounded from around the corner, and a door opened, the fight left him. All three adults looked up quickly when Bobby had rounded the corner, a shotgun over one shoulder and his free hand holding a sparkling blue hoop around him. Sam bit back the sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh, though Bobby seemed only mildly irritated, sending them a glare when Dean opened his mouth again, and once again shut it.

“You best listen to the girl tryin’ to save your sorry asses.. Embarrassment be damned, I’d like to  _ live _ to see the end of this.”

“Atta boy, Bobby,” CJ called out in casual encouragement, “Since the tweedles finally showed, how about we catch em up to speed?”

“No one’s gonna ever get to your speed,” Bobby huffed, shaking his head as he dropped the hoop to the hook by the fireplace and settled into his chair again, his back giving a mighty protest before he popped it out and relaxed. “The spirits are more than just that.. They’re tied to certain people in a different way.”

“So they’re all people we know?” Sam mumbled.

“Not just know,” Dean corrected him calmly, continuing to load his weapon, “People we couldn’t save.”

“I saved Dean an ass whooping from Meg Masters.”

The pure smugness in her tone had earned her a glare from the aforementioned hunter, but she merely grinned and waved away his annoyance. “I prepped as much as I could in the ten minutes Bobby gave me, I’ve been building since then.”

“Building what?” Sam couldn’t help but ask, seeing the now obvious bag of childrens toys sitting directly beside the couch. Not only were there five hula hoops, three of them broken open, but there was a large number of colorful children's water guns. 

“I’ll explain  _ after _ you sit your butt down,” she stood up after her statement, brushing her hands briskly to rid them of the stray grains, and motioning for the two men to hurry up and get further into the room. “Come on, come on, we don’t have all day.

“Sam, sit,” she pointed sternly at the couch, where Dean had plopped down, and when he had merely stood there, looking from the toys, to her, and back again, she inhaled deeply, leaned forward, and snatched the collar of his shirt to jerk him eye-level with her. “Sit down before I start talking. We’ll talk later,  _ alone _ , but I am not going to sit on my ass and waste time while you get bruises and I get unnecessary facial pain, which, by the way, is already starting to throb. Sit.  _ Down. _ ”

When she had let him go, Sam hesitated for only a few seconds before doing as she said and plopping into the seat beside his brother, pointedly ignoring the knowing smirk the elder Winchester had shot at him and choosing to inspect the plastic bag at his feet.

“You went to a toy store? During this?”

“Like I said, I’m not sitting on my ass,” she huffed, rolling her eyes as she walked into the unprotected kitchen, no weapon in sight. Dean, seeming to notice this, got to his feet in a rush, hurrying to the doorway just as she turned to glare at him. “What are you doing? At least take a salt-hoop or something-!”

“I was not involved in anyone’s deaths,” the female replied calmly, taking a large baking sheet from the cupboard while she was at it so she could place Sam’s ice-pack and towel on a tray with beers and a few slices of pie. “Why would they hurt me. If they actually take a look at this, I’d look like a victim in their eyes. I’m not a hunter, and yet, I feel, and acquire, the physical injuries both of you seem to attain on a daily basis. Not only that, but I’m unable to be away from either of you too long or my body goes into a sort of numbing shock.” She set the tray down on the desk with her last word, and wrapped the pack in the towel before moving over to be in front of Sam. “Now hold still. I need to make sure none of these broke skin.”

Dean had gone for the pie a few seconds after he’d seen her set it down, carefully scooping a bite into his mouth as he looked between her, Sam and Bobby. “So what now,” he spoke around the mouthful, licking his lips to catch stray bits of sugar-dressing, “we wait for these ghosts to show up and try to kill us?”

“That depends,” Bobby asked calmly, flicking his eyes between the boys, “That Henricksen fella, did he have a mark, or brand on his skin?”

“Yes, yes he did,” Sam moved to get up, but the hand on his shoulder pushed him sharply back down, the glare from the woman silencing his brief protest before he continued from his seat as he was treated. “Why, is that important? What does it mean?”

“Draw it out,” Bobby held out a scrap of paper and a pencil, letting the younger Winchester grasp it before he pulled away to reach for his glass of whiskey. “When you’re done with that, we’ve got to get a game plan sorted out.”

“I saved us a couple hours and a trip to the panic room,” CJ offered calmly, giving Sam a warning glare when he’d forgotten to put the ice back on his face. Seeing her pointed look, his hesitantly returned the towel to his temple, handing over the finished design to Bobby who settled back into his seat with a strained sigh. “I’ve seen this.. So we’re not completely screwed..”

“Wait- you have a panic room?” Dean’s question seemed to catch up to the forefront of his mind, and the three simultaneous bitch faces he received at the words had his hands flipping up in defense, “Jeez, alright, sorry..”

“Later, Cowboy,” CJ amended softly, turning back to her nest of projects as she sat back into her large circle of salt. “Toss me my rosaries and the glue gun, would ya?”

The wires of the house began to fuze again, the lights gaining a quick, unnatural flicker. The boys tensed, reaching for their guns while Bobby merely reclined, flipping through the last few books CJ had plopped into his hands with a determined flip to his fingers.

“Will the two of you chill the Hell out?” the woman groused, seeing the younger men’s eyes dart to her in frustrated confusion, “The both of you blind, as well as slow? This room is the second safest in the damn house. First being the panic room. It’s about as ghost proof as we’re gonna get it while still being in reach of the right tools.”

“She’s not wrong,” Bobby huffed, not even glancing up from his tomb as he spoke, “Believe it or not, the iron chains double as locked doors. They can’t get in the windows, and the salts held down heavy with how much she poured. We’ll be fine for a good while.”

Giggling echoed throughout the room, and it was followed by a whimsical, yet pained female one.

“ _ Dean~ _ ”

“Meg Masters, ladies and gentleman,” CJ huffed, frowning deeply when she glanced to see the flickers outside of the open doorway, “The chick I saved Dean from getting his ass whooped by.”

“She would not whoop my ass,” Dean defended immediately.

“Would you really hurt a girl you know you played a part in killing?” she raised an eyebrow, but the sarcasm in her tone did not diminish his slight flinch, “It happened. Get over it.” her eyes darted to Sam, his foggy-eyes almost puppy-like in grief as he most likely remembered Henricksen, and her own hazel orbs narrowed, “ _ Both _ of you. People die. That’s how the world works, so  _ suck it up, _ ” she cocked her sawed off loudly, loading the shells in place and absently aiming toward the doorway as the blonde haired female stepped into the light, looking frustrated and angry, ready to open her mouth to speak, “And  _ do your job _ -!”

A shot rang out, and the woman disappeared with a yell. CJ reloaded the shot she’d used, and set the gun back down, holding her hand out impatiently for the glue gun that was held limply in Dean’s hand. “Cowboy, I  _ really  _ don’t have the patience to sit still while you hold that.”

“Sorry..” 

Deans murmur was quiet, and a bit raspy, but when she’d turned to look up at him, lifting her hand to grab the tool, she gave him a slow, shallow nod. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Not to me, at least.”

It was quiet for two counts, before CJ took the gun, and pointed her finger toward the mess of empty shells on the end table and the bag of salt. “Alright boys, make yourselves useful, we need all the salt rounds we can get if this shit goes sideways.”

“Who died and put you in charge..?” Sam muttered under his breath, ducking sharply out of reflex when a rosary went sailing toward his head, hitting the back of the couch and falling to the seat in the process. “Geez, I was kidding..”

“Kid with me  _ after _ we put them to rest,” she growled, but the teasing light in her eyes was clear to see, and the twitch at the corner of her mouth was too pressed to have been anger.


	12. Chapter 12

They had sat in silence for nearly ten minutes, Sam and Dean loading salt rounds with passive aggressive efficiency, while CJ mumbled Latin under her breath over the openings of the now filled water guns. The caps of the guns were filled, on the inside, in hot glue, with a good piece of the rosary chain hanging down to be in the water.

Dean slowly stopped his packing, glancing from the kneeling, muttering girl, to Sam, who, infrequently now, lifted the slowly melting ice pack to his face. A quick glance at Bobby showed the hunter was no closer to the answer than ten minutes ago, and he was as restless as he could be. “You see, this is why I can’t get behind God.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam slowly set down his ice pack, looking over to his brother with a curious, almost wounded expression. Hadn’t they been over this..?

“If he doesn’t exist? Fine.” Dean set the sHell he’d been working on down on the table, his jaw tensing as he sat back in his chair, “Bad crap happens to good people. No rhyme or reason; just random.. Horrible.. Evil.. I get that. Okay, I can roll with that, but if he  _ is _ out there-?” He sat up again, this time more firmly, his hands making gestures as he enunciated his words, he really was getting stressed about this. “What’s  _ wrong _ with him..?”

CJ had a million and two things to say about that, but wisely kept her mouth shut as he worked through his frustration. He needed his minute to rant.

“Where the Hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds?”

Dean slapped his hand against the table lightly, drumming his fingers restlessly against the wood as his face contorted in both annoyance and lack of hope, “How does he live with himself..? You know, why doesn’t he help?”

The boys looked directly at CJ then, staring in silence as she capped the last gun, her head perking up and her body giving a shudder as she turned her head to see three sets of eyes boring into the flannel against her back.

“What?”

They were silent, glancing between each other before looking back at her. 

Her eyes shot open wide and she rapidly shook her head, muttering obscenities under her breath as she dropped the gun to the floor and shook her hands quickly in front of her chest, “Fuck no- Nuh-uh, I ain’t touching that with a fifty foot stick.  _ Hell no _ -!”

They were quiet for several counts, and then, Bobby shook his head, breaking back to the present.

“Found it,” Bobby’s voice cut into the silent, shared look the two brother’s now held, and they both turned to look at him quickly as he held up the book, his thumb keeping the pages open to display the symbol Sam had drawn, with just a tad more detail. “I’d looked through it a bit earlier, when I’d had these books shoved at me-” he shot a look toward CJ, who was now innocently whistling as she toyed with the ends of her water gun, “-It’s called the Mark of the Witness.”

“Witness,” Sam repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to mentally piece together the puzzle, “Witness to what?”

“To the unnatural,” Bobby lifted an elbow over the back of his seat, getting comfortable as he got into his ‘teaching’ mode, “None of them died what you’d call ‘ordinary’ deaths. You see, these ghosts.. They were  _ forced _ to rise. They woke up in agony. They’re like rabid dogs- It ain’t their fault.” He paused, glancing between them all with a heavy expression, “ _ Someone _ rose them. On purpose.”

“Who?” Sam took a glance at the book, but the font was a bit too flowery for him to skim it for answers.

“Do I look like  _ I _ know?” Bobby scoffed, shrugging a bit as he glanced over to CJ, who had moved to load the finished salt rounds into pocket sashes. “But whoever it was, used a spell so powerful, it left a mark, a  _ brand _ , on their souls.” He sat up a bit as he brought out his hands, trying to gesture exactly how serious and important the information really was. “Whoever did this had big plans; its called the Rising of the Witnesses.. It figures into an ancient prophecy.”

“Wait-wait-hold up,” Dean got up from the couch when Sam did, both moving to crowd over the desk to get a good look down at the worn tomb, “What book is that prophecy from?”

“Well,” Bobby gave a shrug, his eyebrows furrowed thickly as he flexed his jaw, “The widely distributed version is just for tourists, you know, but.. Long story short..” he paused then, flicking his eyes toward CJ before settling them firmly on the boys, one last time, “Revelations.”

It was silent, and the Winchesters watched him with faint confusion, slowly grappling onto anxiety as they took in Bobby’s body language and tone. “This is a sign, boys..”

“A sign of what?” they asked in unison. CJ snorted loudly from behind them, earning several sharp looks, before the attention was returned to Bobby.

Leaning back in his seat, he let his shoulders hunch low, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep he had gotten the night before.

“...The Apocalypse.”

“You tell ‘em, Singer,” the female voice called out, the woman having slammed her tools down onto the table and plopped her butt into the cushions with a grunt, “Confirm what I have been telling all three of you for a week, now.”

“The Apocalypse,” Dean repeated, swinging his eyes from bobby, to the girl, and back again sharply, trying to demand answers but not sure who to ask first, “As in; Apocalypse, Apocalypse? Four horsemen.. Pestilence.. Five dollars a gallon gas, Apocalypse-?”

“That’s the one,” Bobby nodded calmly. “The rise of the Witnesses is a.. A mile marker.”

“Okay,” Sam cut in quickly, his leg was shaking, and he looked just about as anxious as Dean did. “So, what do we do, now?”

“Roadtrip,” Dean blew out a breath, huffing as he turned back to the couch and pushed aside CJ’s propped up legs, ignoring her protest as he plopped down beside her, “Grand canyon? Star Trek experience?” He clapped his hands when Bobby and Sam only stared at him, but the smile on CJ’s face was a lot more relaxed and warm. “Bunny ranch,” he snapped his fingers, looking toward the two other men with sarcastic hope.

“I’m in. Sign me up. Bunny ranch, anyone?” CJ offered lightly, grinning when they all turned to look at her in equal states of shock, “Mardi Gras? Mini Golf? Believe it or not, I have never been to an aquarium..”

“You want to go to a bunnyranch?” Dean repeated quietly, looking at CJ with a slight tilt of his head, “You do know I’m not talking about the little fluffy, rodents, right?”

“Sexy, red haired women,” CJ looked up at him with her eyebrows raised, “Why in the Hell  _ wouldn’t _ I go?”

The room took a collective moment to take in her comment, and Bobby rolled his eyes.

“First things first,” Bobby pointed out calmly, “How about we survive our friends out there.”

“Heads up,” was the only warning the boys received before a shot rang out, and CJ casually lowered the gun back to her side, the black mist fading from the doorway where it had almost immediately appeared. “Keep talking.”

“Any ideas aside from staying in this room until judgement day?” Dean asked after a moment, reaching up his hands to rub at his temples. Bobby tapped the book with his pen, shaking his head as he turned back to face the desk properly. “It’s a spell. To send the Witnesses back to rest. It  _ should _ work..”

“Should, heh,” Sam gave out a quick, disbelieving laugh, “Great.. Any input,  _ CJ _ ?”

“It’s not a waste of time, if that’s what you’re asking,  _ Lucky _ .”

“And if I’ve translated correctly,” Bobby continued, ignoring both of the young adult’s snarky, thinly veiled jabs, “I think we’ve got everything we need here at the house.”

“Any chance you’ve got everything we need here in this room?” Dean asked, though his hope was clearly thin. “You think our luck was going to start now all of a sudden?” Bobby scoffed.

CJ grinned a little, humming a bright tune that immediately caught the men’s ears when she hopped up from her seat and moved to get beside Bobby. She fell to her knees and dragged the heavy red hex box out from under it, placing it on the desk with a thunk. Opening a drawer with a practiced ease, then pulling out several other items and laying them out in turn. Finally pointing to the bowl on the end table, she flashed the silently staring men a smug, relaxed smile. “Apparently it has.”

“Okay..” Dean murmured slowly, looking over the items on the table before giving her a slow, relaxed nod, and giving her a single, accusing point, “You.. You are really.. Something..”

“Thank me later,” she shrugged, bending over to brace her hands on the edge of the desk and blowing a lock of brown bangs from her eyes, “Hemlock, opium, wormwood..”

She felt the flannel slip over her left shoulder, ignoring the way it fell down her arm as she lifted her hand to pat the top of the red box, “The red hex box from the linen closet upstairs.. It’s a bit heavy. Everything should be in here..”

“Yeah..” Sam murmured under his breath, tearing his eyes away from the slouching teal fabric before locking them sternly on her face. She lifted her eyes up to him a moment later, and he was glad for his timing. “We  _ really _ need to talk about this when this is over..”

“I’ll say,” Bobby scoffed, opening the box with a sharp shake of his head, “but it’ll be  _ after _ dinner and three beers..”

“Cowboy, wanna cover with me?” she asked quietly. He seemed to shock himself back into reality, swinging his eyes around a bit before finding her again with a hum. “We should have enough rounds for Bobby to finish the spell unhindered. But it’s not bad to be safe.”

“Ahm- yeah- Yeah I’ll take kitchen..”

“Don’t cross the salt, Cowboy,” she warned playfully, reaching down to pick up and iron poker from the stand and pass one to Sam, “You too, Lucky. Always good to have a backup.”

They each picked up their guns and cocked them, and no sooner had they done so did the lights begin to flicker. CJ could hear giggles, and the angry grumbling of multiple people. Flipping off the safety, and held it up to her eye, glaring a bit down the line as she took a knee and aimed at the entryway. Dean was just a few feet away from her, standing, but with his gun raised more to his chest. Sam stood by CJ, standing tall as they listened for the first of many ghosts.

“ _ Bob- _ ”

_ CRACK- _ !

The twins had barely materialized before they were blasted away, and CJ didn’t even flinch as she cocked the gun again, and waited. 

“ _ Winches- _ ”

CRACK-!

The sound came from the kitchen, and by the voice CJ knew that Henricksen had made another appearance.

“ _ Dean- _ ”

Ronald.

_ CRACK- _

“ _ Sam- _ ”

Meg.

_ CRACK- _

“ _ B- _ ”

_ CRACK- _

“ _ De- _ ”

_ CRACK- _

_ BOOM- _

_ CRACK- _

_ CRACK- _

_ CRACK- _

_ SWIFF- _

_ CRACK- _

_ SWIFF- _

_ SWIFF- _

_ CRACK- _

_ CRACK- _

_ CRACK- _

The explosion of light was sudden and swift, white and blue in an almost holy essence bursting from the fireplace and sweeping through the house. CJ felt a coolness wash over her with the spell, and her eyes remained wide open as she drank in the light. It felt like jumping into the cool ocean on a hot day. Fresh and cleansing..

Her gun fell to the floor with a clatter, and she fell to her knees soon after. Her forehead pulsed suddenly, and she felt a pain bleating behind her eyes.

Mayhaps it wasn’t a smart thing to keep her eyes open, then..?

After blinking a few seconds, she narrowed the pain down to be coinciding, and closed her eyes with a groan, throwing her head back and practically growling out her words. “Alright, which one of you dumbasses didn’t close your eyes? I have a migraine now, and I am  _ not  _ cooking with fifty-percent of my usual balance.”

“Dammit..”

_ Damn it, Dean.. _


	13. Chapter 13

“M’ so tired..” CJ was sprawled, starfish style on the perfectly clean floor of the sitting room. She was facedown, with her hair pooling around her head, her shoulders and the floor in a poofy brown mess. The boys had been given clean-up duty, while she was in charge of picking up her new toys and putting them in the closet.

The best part about those weapons, is that they couldn’t get in trouble for owning them if they’re found by law enforcement.

She really did love tumblr..

Before she went to sleep, she needed to pray to Lucifer.

Aaaaggggghhhh.. She wasn’t sure if she would be on key, or be able to sing without yawning.

Oh well, she’d do her best.

What to sing, tonight..

What to sing..

What.. to..

….To..

…

A foot connected firmly with her side and despite not being harsh, she had sprung up, her foot connecting with someone else’s side. Her arms moved, pushing her momentum to spring her in a flip as she gave a battle cry. “ _ Aaugh-! What the-  _ What the  _ fuck _ Sam-?!”

She felt a sharp pain in her own side, and fell to the ground with a whine, clutching her left side with a gasp and pressing her forehead to the floor as she listened to Sam’s similar grunt of pain, “Yeah.. I’m not doing that again..” 

“Dammit Lucky.. Don’t  _ ever _ do that again..”

While they both recovered from the sharp kick to the lower ribs, they breathed heavily, and sat slouched on the floor. 

Finally, after completely waking up, the female sighed, reaching over a hand to press into the dip of Sam’s shoulder blades, rubbing down firmly and smoothing it out when she felt the knots that had accumulated there. “Sorry for kicking you, Lucky. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. Literally.”

“No, I get it,” he crouched a little, rolling his shoulders at the foreign touch, but feeling them gradually loosen, then melt, as the pressure continued to increase, her thumb driving small, harder circles into his skin until he’d hung his head with a soft grunt.

“Whoops, sorry.” The gentle hand disappeared, and he almost felt the need to lean back into it again. Almost. Sitting back up, he lifted his arms far above his head, twisting his spine with a satisfying pop and hearing a good number of cracks follow suit before he sat back down. The room was much cleaner than the mess of salt, iron, and children’s toys it had been. Not a trace of the nights earlier events in sight, leaving only the towers of books and warn, old furniture.

“That talk..” Sam spoke after a few moments of silence. Dean was somewhere else in the house, probably getting changed. And Bobby had retired to his room after eating some heated up casserole they had in leftovers. “I’d rather have it sooner, than later..”

She studied his face when she’d turned to him, already being thoroughly looked over by the younger Winchester as he’d been speaking. His powder blue-green, and sunflower eyes now boring down intently at her with something akin to impatient determination.

“Alright, Lucky, let’s take a walk, then..”

* * *

It was nearly ten minutes into their walk around the salvage yard, almost as far as physically possible as they could get from the house, when Sam finally spoke up, his voice grating with nerves, adrenaline, and possible anger.

“Well, I’m waiting. Say it.” He hadn’t thought she’d speak immediately after he had, but he’d been wrong before.

“I think you’re stupid and easily manipulated, but I like you anyway so I’m going to keep your secrets until you pull your head out of your ass to tell Dean on your own or until it blows up in your face with outside interference.”

Her mouthful was quick, like ripping off a bandaid, but the grin on her face was bright, and her hands stayed shoved deep into the pockets of her too-big jeans.

Sam stared blankly at the woman who stood in absolute silence, his eyes blinking slowly as he registered exactly what she had said, what she had meant, and what she had implied. 

“What do you know..”

“Everything,” she shrugged. “The demon’s blood, Ruby, the plan to gank Lilith. All of it.”

His hands twitched at his sides, and when she saw the ire in him rising, she lifted up her hands in a sort of surender, her voice still relaxed, and near gleeful, “It’s okay. I’m not gonna tell Dean. That’s your decision to make. Besides, you  _ are _ an adult. You can make your own decisions and mistakes.”

“You called me easily manipulated,” he pointed out quickly, his eyes narrowed as he brushed a hand roughly through his hair, letting it fall back perfectly into place without even trying. She was almost jealous. Okay she  _ was _ actually jealous, but..

“Because you  _ are _ ,” she nodded her head in agreement, keeping her eyes open and on Sam when he’d made a move to start pacing back and forth, rubbing at his jaw with one hand and his other tugging at the material of his flannel. “By the standard in my visions, you’re still a baby. You’ve got a lot of, pardon my choice of words, but,  _ growing up _ to do.” When he’d shot her a glare that could have roasted Lilith on the spot, she gave a soft, calming smile, “Trust me, there’s a lot you don’t know. A lot you’ll never believe until you see it for yourself. But know, at least, out of everything else, that I’m here to help. You’ve already lost so much.. I’m not going to let you lose any more.”

The hand that had covered his jaw slowly lowered back to his side, hanging like dead weight, while his other gripped even tighter to his shirt over his broad chest. “You won't tell Dean? Why? You seem pretty close to him.” There was a bitterness in his voice that even surprised him, but she didn’t seem the least bit affected, shoving her hands back into her pockets as she gave him a wide, fox-like grin, “Nah, I kind of like watching you play doomed lovers with the demon-girl. It’s kind of cute.”

“Ha-ha,” he laughed, sarcastic, but quiet, his jaw ticking in the effort not to grit his teeth. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” she asked calmly. “If it’s something that wont fuck with the future, go ahead; because I like how the majority of the details go, otherwise I’ll need to do something else.” It was quiet for a full minute, but he couldn’t find anything substantial to ask or demand that wasn’t about the future. He wasn’t above torturing the information out of her, but he also knew that if he waited long enough, she’d be willing to share it on her own. She said it herself.

She liked him.

Maybe he could use that.

It was better to wait a while, however, the sudden shift in forced politeness to suave would definitely tip her off, not to mention, he had to be careful on how her psychic abilities worked. 

It was settled then, he’d ask casual, curious questions over the next few days until he was comfortable enough in putting his plan to action.

The plan that took about eight and a half seconds to make.

“If you want, I can tell you an embarrassing memory,” she offered simply. He’d shot her a wary look, and she shrugged, rolling her eyes upwards in thought, “Or I could tell you the story about the necklace you gave Dean.. the story about how the demons blood began.. Azazel’s involvement, or I could tell you why I think you’re easily manipulated.”

“...The last one,” he murmured after a few seconds of thought. They’d stopped now, right between where a row of cars began and ended. They each, without words, took a seat on one of the hoods, facing each other, but not making eye contact, choosing instead to lift their eyes to the polluted sky. CJ silently wondered if she’d ever see the beautiful stars they’d gotten to in the show.

“First of all, you’re following around Ruby like a demented puppy. One, she’s a  _ demon _ , they are manipulative by  _ design _ . Sure she was human once, but unless you have something that’s going to bring out her  _ true  _ humanity, not that forced, dewy-eyed, casual  _ crap  _ she’s pulling, then I’m going to continue to hate her. I like her, a little, as a character, in what I had  _ thought.. _ Was just a bunch of stupid dreams.. But this is real, and, despite my better judgement, I trust  _ you _ , specifically  _ you _ , in making those decisions. I have faith in  _ you. You  _ and  _ Dean  _ and  _ Bobby. _ And that is where my faith in anything goes. And as much as I love Castiel, with a passion, actually, I wouldn't put my faith in him, today, tomorrow, or even next week.”

“But-.. But he’s an angel?” Sam seemed honestly stumped by this, his face looking almost insulted, “They’re the good guys.” “I want to hear you say that in a year,” she smiled then, but it was less sly fox, more cautious puppy. “Six months. Actually. Six months, tops.”

It was quiet again, and the Winchester ran both hands down his face in a firm attempt to clear his mind.

He would think on it later, for now, he had to take care of the pressing issue.

Like earning her trust.

Which would probably take a lot longer than he was hoping.

Oh well, until Ruby had any good leads on Lilith, he had all the time in the world.

* * *

Dean awoke from his place on the floor with a jolt, sitting up with a quiet grunt as his eyes locked on the lean legs of his brother coming from the kitchen. Sam stepped around him quietly, before perching on the sofa, and grasping the flannel he’d hung over the back. He slipped one arm in, and finally looked over to his brother, a bit surprised to see him awake, but giving him a worried smile all the same. “You alright?”

The elder’s head stayed bowed, eyes distant as his mind tore through the conversation he had had with the ethereal being. Sam slipped the rest of his shirt on, his worry finally leaking into his voice. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

Blinking his eyes to clear them, clearing his throat and looking up at his brother with such lost, broken eyes it was a wonder he hadn’t shed a tear in his sleep. “So.. You’ve got no problem believing in God, and.. and angels..?”

Sam buttoned his shirt up quickly before brushing the hair from his face, giving his brother a light shrug. “No, not really.”

Dean was quiet, his eyes fluttering shut as he processed the words. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth twitched into a frown, “Why are you asking me this?”

Dean kept his mouth shut, but the meaning behind his eyes was clear.

A thumping echoed from the stairs behind the elder male, and both sets of eyes turned quickly to see the brunette sashaying down the staircase, bright purple cords hanging from the headphones over her ears and her arms swinging around to keep balance as she walked, or more, danced, her way towards the kitchen.

The brothers paused for a moment to take in the fact that she was silently dancing, her mouth parting around silent words as she got into the kitchen, the doors opened wide as she peered through the fridge and began plopping items on the counter. A twist helped her grasp her apron and tug it on, followed by a heel-tap to the fridge door to shut it and reaching high for the pan handle above her. Her eyes trailed to the living room and she hopped back with a yelp, fumbling for balance as she landed on her rear, out of sight to them due to the desk, and scrambled back to grasp the side of the stove and haul herself to her feet. “What the fuck-?! Don’t  _ stare _ at me like that-! The both of you nearly gave me a heart attack-!”

They broke out of their collective trance immediately, both of them shooting the other a look of confused surprise.  _ Both? _

“What are you doing?” Dean asked after a second, rolling himself up to his feet and reaching for his shirt. The woman frowned at the move of his hands, her nose scrunching up almost delicately as she eyed up both of their outfits, closed her eyes and shook her head. It wasn’t worth it.

“Cooking breakfast and praying. Any other questions?”

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” Sam asked, almost hesitant with his lighter, lilting tone. Dean seemed to break out of his funk to look at him, eyebrows raised, before returning to the woman. What he had thought were a pair of black shorts, were men’s boxers. Huh. 

“It’s covering my ass, so I see no reason you would be panting,” she scoffed, blunt and completely done with the situation as she righted her headphones, and rolled her eyes. Dean catching up to what she had been saying, shook his head, raising his hand and waving his arm to grab her attention before she could turn around. Rolling her eyes again, this time more dramatically, she pulled the headphones off of her ears and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. “ _ What _ ?”

“You’re  _ praying _ ..? And with music in your ears?”

“You can pray silently,” she shook her head at him in disbelief, closing her eyes as she brought a hand to her temple, “And I sing to whom I pray to, thank you. Great, now I’ll need to start over.”

She fixed the headphones again, and moved to start the breakfast dishes, cracking eggs into a bowl and pulling out the ham she had bought, along with cheese, chives, olives, and any other bits and pieces she could think of they may want in their omelettes.

Sam flicked his eyes from her bright purple headphones to her sleek, wavy brown hair, down to the long sleeved black shirt and the men’s boxers held up bareilly by the cinched elastic. Sharing a final look, the brothers broke away to finish their morning routines, and while Dean left to go get something cleaner on, Sam took a seat at the table, resting his chin on his fist as he watched her work. Now would be a good time to ask questions, but the ones he could ask had to start small. 

While he mulled over the possible things he could ask her, her arms raised up in a spine-popping stretch, lifting the hem of her shirt almost teasingly and exposing about four inches of her lower back. The slightest hint of gold and black peeking from the space caught his eyes. “You have a tattoo?”

She had just lowered the headphones before he’d spoke, her thumb clicking for the old-ish ipod to stop playing. She turned her head, startled and confused, and glanced down over her shoulder as well as he could when he’d spoken. “Which one?

“You have more than one,” he sounded rather surprised at that, his eyes flicking curiously over her body, straying toward her knee-socked covered feet but overall along her back. “What are they..?”

“Well, one’s an anti-possession symbol,” she offered him a slight smile as she turned back toward the stove, “The others.. Well..”

“Come on, I’m curious,” there was a laugh in his voice, a playful one, and when she looked over her shoulder again, he almost looked surprised at the level of confusion that was on her face. “Why do you want to know?” “Well,” he leaned forward, off of his hand, and adjusted his weight into his seat to be more open, relaxed, the searching gleam in her eyes unwavering as he continued, “We hardly know anything about you.. And, like Bobby put it, you’ve been trying to save our asses.. So..”

“So,” she continued for him, leaning over the table to put the plate down in front of him, almost aggressively, while she met his eyes with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before, “You want to make sure that I’m not a threat to you, or Dean, or any of your plans.”

“No,” fell out of his mouth faster than he processed, but he knew it was true, quite a bit from the mark, but not entirely untrue. “We don’t even know your last name. All we know is that you're a.. Time-Traveling psychic that has this weird connection that if one of us is hurt, it echoes onto you. Which, in my opinion, has got to be the worst thing you could have gotten. Dean and I get beaten around, broken, bruised, and bled, on a weekly basis.”

“I know,” she let go of the plate, but she was still propping herself on the table, her eyes darting through his and searching with an almost concerned air. “Believe me, Sam, I know..”

Her voice was quiet, and she had closed her eyes, her lips pinching into a scowl as she gave a sudden hiss, her hand flying up to grip the side of her neck and sending a glare in the direction of the stairs, “For fucks, sake, Dean, do you need the water that hot-?!”

She blew out a sharp puff of breath and spun on her heel to fix the rest of the food, Sam watching her in silence as she moved like water across the length of the cabinet and back to the table. “Do you.. Like, cooking?”

“Not particularly,” she shook her head in the negative, and he felt the actual surprise on his face before she smiled at him. “No, cooking is a pain in the ass all around, but if you need to eat, I’d gladly be the one to feed you. I told you if you need anything within my power, I’d give it to you, but I’m not an experienced hunter, and I’m not a miracle worker. So please keep that in mind.”

“I will..” Sam murmured, his fingers tracing the handle of the fork she had set out for him before she left to wake Bobby up. “I will.”


	14. Blast to the Past

CJ sat curled up in the motel-room bed, awoken by the pain she’d felt sharply in her big toe. One of the brothers, she was certain. 

She sat up just a bit from her ball at the sight of the looming shadow in the bathroom, reaching under her commandeered pillow to grab the gun she had tucked in the seat. When she caught sight of Sam’s empty bed, and the felt the faint pull after completely waking up, she rolled her eyes, and tucked herself back beneath the blanket she had brought with her. 

No way did she trust motels.

Light, smooth footsteps curled around the room, and she blinked her eyes open at the feeling of someone not three feet away just standing.

“If you’re going to see Ruby, get gone before I kick you.”

Sam jumped sharply at the voice of the woman directly behind him, but stayed silent, shooting her a sharp look when she slowly opened her eyes and gave him a withering glare. “Watch your feet, smartass.”

Briefly recalling the pain he had put his toe through in the bathroom, he closed his eyes, and pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, he opened his mouth, probably to whisper something along the lines of ‘don’t startle a hunter’, but when she sat up, and pointed sharply at the window with a stern look, he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and nodded.

When he’d silently opened the door, he’d paused, halfway out the threshold, and sent her a brief look of deep consideration, before offering her a short nod.

She was mere minutes into her dozing back into oblivion when the sounds of swooshing caught her ears. She hopped to her feet, ramming immediately into the large, blue wall of feathers and muscle and hitting the ground with a cry of shock. 

Castiel shuddered from the sudden contact, whipping his head around to shoot a look toward the human avidly scooting toward Dean’s position on the bed. She shook his shoulder twice, in a hurried fashion, and he bolted awake, taking one look at her pale, startled face to relax his grip on the knife beneath his pillow, but hold it steady as he tried to sit up.

“Hello Dean. ..What were  _ you _ dreaming about?”

Castiel’s voice was calm, despite scaring the living daylights out of him, and he shot the angel a look of adrenaline-fuelled annoyance. CJ hovered close behind him, her fingers twisting into the back of his shirt, murmuring the foreign words under her breath. The angel turned his eyes to her, narrowing them with a tilt of his head. “How do you know Enochian..?”

“I have no fucking idea.. And can you  _ please  _ tuck your wings back..? It makes me really claustrophobic..” She tucked herself against Dean’s back after the comment and stuffed her face into his shirt. He squirmed a little, trying to dislodge her, but when she refused to budge, gave up, and swung a look of annoyance at Castiel.

“Do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?” He tossed the covers of the bed away from him, grimacing at the vague memory that CJ had forced him to change into more comfortable clothing and actually get under the covers of the bed.

Sam had gotten a good laugh out of the petty argument, at least.

“What do you want?”

“Listen to me,” Castiel’s voice was lower, and he could not look either of the humans in the eyes as he turned his gaze toward the moonlight stretching across the bedspread through the window. Finding the courage, after reminding himself he was a soldier, he turned a more firm expression toward the elder Winchester, his jaw tense. “You have to stop it.”

“Stop what?” Dean asked quietly, he felt the woman behind him shifting to peek over his shoulder, a few stray wisps of brown tickling his cheek.

The angel lifted his hand, two fingers held out, and was nearly touching the righteous man’s forehead before it was sharply smacked away. “ _ Oh no _ angel boy-! We get five minutes to pack before you haul our asses all over kingdom yon-!”

Seeming more startled by the fact that she had swat his hand than the words themselves, the angel shot her a look of deep concentration once more, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown set on his lips. “What are you?”

“A Prophet without the fancy security detail.”

“Your name?” he demanded sternly. She snorted outright, grasping Dean’s shirt and hauling him off the bed with her and rushing to grab her bag, “I don’t know where the fuck Sam is, but angel boy seems pretty stern about this happening  _ now _ .”

Dean was given two minutes to change, still reeling from his flashbacks of Hell, both on and off the rack, as well as with the sudden appearance of an angel and the return of CJ-the-Bossy-Lady.

She had hardly tossed his hunter’s bag into his chest before he turned, feeling the touch on his temple before he saw the angel and his eyes flashing open with a start.


	15. Chapter 15

When Castiel had put his hand to her temple, she expected a zap, a tingle, or even a spark. When nothing had happened, and she only felt the increasingly awkward press of fingers in her personal space she flipped out and backed up, gritting her teeth in annoyance. “Why am I still here?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel’s voice was nearly thunder-like in quality as he sent her a glare, lowering his gaze to the hand that had touched her and outright flexing his fingers. “It is as if a shell is encasing you. I am unable to wrap my grace around it.”

“What,” she scoffed, a frown furrowing her brows as a bit of disappointment touched her form, “You mean I can’t go flying with any angels?”

“Not that I’d be able to see,” he shook his head sharply, then huffed, “What are you. Answer.”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly  _ trust you _ right now..? Maybe in a year or two..”

“Tell me,” his fist clenched sharply into her shirt, and her back was suddenly pressed against the wall, her eyes going wide at the sight of the large, gleaming blue wings rising in an almost threatening gesture. “I’m human, I swear. I don’t have magic powers. Just visions of a possible future on repeat whenever I try to sleep.”

“What is your name?” he narrowed his eyes sharply, “There are no prophets with the name CJ. Nor are there any names with such an initialism.”

“Let go.. Of me..” her voice was thicker now, her breathing ragged as she glared into the man’s stolen powder blue eyes, “I don’t care how much I like you, I do not trust you  _ now _ . Go to Dean. And hurry. He’s going to be attacked by Azazel, and if he dies, the righteous man’s death is on your hands.” He slowly let go of her shirt, and she slid down the wall until her feet touched the floor. She hurried to grab his sleeve when he’d lifted his wings, likely preparing for flight, and when he drew his eyes back to her with a snap, she gave him an almost feral expression. “And also, do not  _ ever _ threaten to send Dean Winchester back to Hell. Even if you  _ weren’t _ bluffing, your superiors would surely smite  _ you _ first.” At the flicker of indignation in his eyes, she finished, “He is far more important than you were told. Than most of the angels know. So treat him well, because it is  _ his _ trust you must earn if you wish to be close enough by his side to understand him.”

When she had let go of his coat, not a second later, he was gone.

* * *

Three and a half minutes..

It was three and a half minutes of nonstop-trench-in-the-rug pacing. And every second was agony. Seconds stretched to minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. Her pulse thundered in her ears and the rushing blood echoed like waves on a windy beach. 

She wanted nothing more than to go back with Dean.

But of course the, quite possibly only superpower she had was now also her greatest weakness.

She was like a glass jar. Unable to be angelically altered. She couldn't jump through time. Couldn’t even get to fly with anyone...

It was not the first time she figured out she would need help.

And who better to help than the archangel currently playing Pagan.

She’d need to work fast, and she’d need to be convincing. She’d need to drill into this man’s metaphorical head  _ exactly  _ what was at stake if things diverged from the set path until people could be saved.

She just had to live long enough to get to that point.

And to do that, she was going to need to talk to the angel.

_ Fuuuuuuucckkkkk. _

When Dean had appeared, asleep, on top of his bed, with his coat pulled over him like a makeshift blanket, she’d nearly cried out in relief. Instead, she threw herself at the sleeping hunter just as his eyes popped open, startling him twice as much as would have been normal as she pulled him into a rough, tight hug. She could feel the wetness of his eyes against her neck, and the spasmic, startled clawing of his fingers in the back of her coat felt hesitant. But as she murmured soft words into his hair, clutching him tighter as she gently rocked his shoulders, she felt him hug back almost just as much.

“I’m sorry- I’m so,  _ so _ sorry.. I can’t  _ say _ much.. I have to  _ be _ there- and then Castiel couldn’t bring me and-”

“I don’t blame you, CJ.”

His words were quiet, and dry, and she felt the tears falling from her eyes before she registered the stinging. She felt him pull back, sniffing loudly as she lifted her sleeve to wipe away what remained of the tears. His hand came up, and her eyes clenched shut, the moment dragging on like an eternity before Dean had pushed aside the hesitance, letting his fingers ghost over her face to push the damp bangs from her eyes, and tuck the largest section of hair back over her shoulder. 

“We need to find Sam.”

It had been only a half of a minute before his brain registered the empty bed again, and the angel standing just a few feet away, watching them intently with what he could only describe as profound confusion. Looking more like some lost puppy than what should be a feared, ethereal being of God.

Sitting up, he let her settle on the bed across from him, Sam’s empty bed, and he addressed the angel with a breathless frown. “I couldn’t stop it.. I couldn’t stop  _ any _ of it..” He felt the hand on his knee, and he looked down to see the small, pale hand of their new resident psychic. He pressed his lips together, bowing his head in despair and shame, but did not comment on it, and did not brush it away. “She still made the deal.. She still died in the nursery didn’t she?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Castiel did not look at his as he spoke, choosing to let his eyes glaze over in thought as he stood standing a ways away from them, probably trying to work out their giant mess of a puzzle. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Dean stood slowly, looking at the angel in disbelief. CJ’s hands fell to her lap, and she wrung them out roughly, like trying to scrub dirt from beneath an icy faucet. “What?”

“Destiny can’t be changed, Dean” Castiel’s voice was laced with wisdom, and reverence, and he turned to face Dean directly, when he continued. “All roads lead to the same destination.”

“Then why did you send me back?” The most broken, heart-wrenching pain settled in CJ’s chest, and for once she didn’t stop to wonder if it was hers or Dean’s.

“For the truth,” Castiel gave a small nod, flicking his eyes toward CJ with the faintest glimmer of searching. For what? Acknowledgement, input? His eyes flicked back to Dean, and he blinked slowly as he pieced together the right words. “Now you know everything we do.”

CJ so badly wanted to bleat out how much of a lie that was, but she knew that this actually  _ was _ the extent of Castiel’s knowledge. She could hate Zacharia, Michael and Raphael all she wanted later.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Dean demanded. Castiel’s eyes slid to the bed CJ was sat on, the sheets looking untouched, otherwise. Dean followed his look immediately, and his instincts, drilled into him since he had been four, kicked into absolute overdrive. “Where is Sam?” he demanded. He had eyes only for the angel, ignoring the woman that darted behind him to grasp her duffel bag and lug Dean’s onto her opposite shoulder to join the other.

“We know what Azazel  _ did _ to your brother,” Castiel pointed out calmly, or more emotionlessly, as all angels without first-hand experience of hunger, thirst, and love often did. “What we  _ don’t _ know is  _ why _ . What his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up..”

“Where. Is. Sam?”

“425 Waterman.”

Dean moved to grab his discarded jacket, shucking it over his shoulders quickly and absentmindedly touching the pendant around his neck to be sure that it was still there.

“Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean. And we’re not sure where it leads. So stop it..”

The elder Winchester turned back silently at the crypticness of the angel’s comment. CJ stood resolutely by the door, silently informing him that she had his keys by the delicate way she held them by the key ring. His eyes flickered back to the angel, and they stayed there as he processed the rest of the angel’s words.

“...or we will.”


	16. Catching a Falling Star

The second Dean had shifted the car into gear they had peeled out of the motel like they were being chased by rabid bears. CJ sat curled up in the front seat, wisely keeping her mouth shut as her wide, hazel eyes inspected every inch she could of the front interior. If Dean noticed her awe, he didn’t question it, his jaw firm and his eyes narrowed as he booked it across town. She’d pulled out a JPS as soon as Castiel had given Dean the numbers, knowing where he was for herself, but unwilling to tell Dean.

She’d need to lie if he asked, otherwise, she was going to need to be firm about her position.

Again.

When they’d pulled to a halt a few places down, Dean had thrown himself out of the car, CJ doing so as well, much more careful in closing the passenger door before speed-walking toward the building Dean was now prowling around to get inside. 

She caught his eyes as she got closer, and from the pointed look he gave her, paired with the gesture often used for dogs to sit, she assumed he wanted her to stay put.

Knowing full well Sam was going to flip his shit if he saw her going in there, she gave Dean a sad smile, and two encouraging thumbs up, briefly relishing in the flash of confusion on his face as she plopped directly onto the concrete and relaxed. He had honestly expected a pretty loud fight.

Whatever, just made his job easier..

* * *

Dean wasn’t even in there for five minutes before he came storming back out. He took one long, lingering look at CJ, before walking over and holding out his hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She was slightly concerned by this development, the episode never covered the rest of the night after. Everyone in the fandom assumed he’d gotten hammered, laid, and or gone driving before going to face Sam at the motel again.

“Wouldn’t you know?” he stopped in the middle of the desert street to shoot her a look of both annoyance and confusion, eyebrows drawn together as his jaw ticked. “Nope,” her head shook with the word, and she offered him a strained frown, “I don’t see anything until tomorrow morning.. Or.. later this morning, I suppose..”

Dean watched her for a few seconds, eyes darting around her face, before he gave a small nod, and continued dragging her toward the car. She got into the passenger side in silence, carefully shutting the door once more as Dean slid inside and nearly slammed his in his frustration. 

“So, where are we going?” she asked again, this time more quiet, and relaxed. Being peppy and showing her anxiety would likely only rile him up. 

“Bar.”

She blinked quickly, fingering the bulge of her wallet in her coat pocket as she remembered the fake ID they’d made her after a few days living with Bobby. “Okay.”

“Good,” he quipped, shooting her a look as if he expected her to argue, protest, even look at him in disapproval. The only expression he received was a calm, serene nod, the woman in question relaxing against the seat with a sort of reverence as she turned her eyes from the front of the car to the back, trailing to the back of Dean’s seat and admiring the fine-upholstered leather. “She’s really beautiful. You fixed her up wonderfully.”

He was surprised at the comment, chancing a glance at her straying eyes before returning his to the road, “..Thanks.”

“I mean it, I  _ love _ this car,” she grinned then, a soothing smile that let just a tad bit of the tension in his shoulders fall away as she spoke, “There’s a lot of things I want to ask you.. I actually have a lot of things I want to know..”

“Aren’t you supposed to know everything?” he scoffed, but it was more tired and playful then it was annoyed. “Not at all,” she shook her head, “I know your favorite songs, a tie between Ramble On, and Traveling Riverside Blues.. I know your birthday is January 24th, that you’re allergic to cats, you don’t like dogs much, and that you hate flying in planes.. But for some unexplained reason, I don’t know precisely  _ what _ your favorite pie is..”

It was silent for a few minutes as they drove to the edge of town, and Dean was gradually losing his initial anger, letting it simmer in his stomach on a side-burner as he addressed the younger, relaxed girl beside him. He had taken so long to answer, she looked resigned to him not speaking, but when he had, she’d jolted a bit in surprise, and turned her wide, hazel eyes on him with honest excitement.

“All American Apple,” he answered.

“Do you prefer ham or turkey?” she asked another, and the corner of his lip twitched as he turned to look at her, one strained eyebrow raised as he tried to judge her motives through her body language. But she only looked honestly interested, and he didn’t see a reason not to answer. Turning back to the road a final time, he let his thoughts settle, and he shifted into a position better suited for an all-night talk. “I prefer ham. Now you”

“Hm?” she looked startled by that, shooting him a frown when he didn’t elaborate immediately. “What about me?”

“What’s your favorite pie?” he repeated calmly, eyes flicking across the traffic signs they passed. “Do you prefer turkey or ham?”

She sat there for a few moments, processing that he was actually asking her, before a considerable light shone from her eyes, and she relaxed back into the seats again. “Apple Cinnamon, and turkey.”

A smile twitched at Dean’s mouth, and he let out a breath through his nose. “Alright, when’s your birthday?” 

“March twenty-third,” she stated the number like a fact, crisp and cool, and he chuckled a bit before he hummed, and continued. “Any allergies..?” 

“Well, I  _ used _ to be allergic to fruit.”

“Used to? And  _ fruit _ ?” he sounded more surprised than he initially thought, and the grin she gave was all self-satisfaction and warmth. “I don’t even  _ know _ , man. I couldn’t even drink apple juice before I.. started getting visions.. But then I wind up who knows where, who knows  _ when,  _ and suddenly I can eat all the orange slices and the applesauce I want and drink the juice they set out for lunch.. I just.. I didn’t have access to a third of a healthy diet before I came here, I was seriously bordering on anorexic, but then I wind up..  _ Here. _ . back in time, and.. It’s like I went through a health cleanse.. I didn’t eat as much, yeah, but I wasn’t as hungry.. I’m assuming I’m still slightly anemic, because of my low blood iron, but I can eat  _ fruit  _ now, and I havent had any problems with dog shampoo, another allergy, since coming here, either.”

“You sound really excited over fruit,” he couldn’t help but chuckle, the absolute childish wonder on her face striking a cord in him, “Okay, biggest fears.”

“Sock puppets.”

A hand clamped over her mouth, and she made a loud, self-loathing sound as she pitched forward, slamming her head into her knee repeated. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck- _ fuck _ \-  _ Youeren’tsupposedtoknowthat- please _ do not laugh..”

“Sock puppets..” Dean repeated slowly. They were nearing the bar now, but when he’d pulled into park, he was too wrapped up in his curiosity to get out of his seat. “You’re scared of.. Socks on hands..?”

“It’s scarier when they have eyes on them..” she whimpered, her eyes squinted as she turned her head to look at him, taking in his stunned, confused, and slightly amused expression with a grain of salt. “They shouldn’t.. They shouldn’t look like they’re about to suck your soul from your body-! The Muppets and Sesame Street are the worst -!”

She tucked her face into her knees, her arms wrapping around them as she curled up into a ball on the seat. Dean let out a single, surprised snort, before flicking his eyes out the windshield, blinking at the neons signs, but making no move to get out, quite yet. “Alright.. What’s your favorite song?” 

“None that’ve been made yet,” she chuckled, offering him a weak smile when he looked over again in curiosity. “It depends on, like, the day I’m having..  some days I want to just put on a playlist that will make me cry, others I’ll just get the urge to jump on a table and start dancing to..”

“Like what?” he asked calmly. She looked over at him in surprise, her ramling drifting off with a far-away look, but she turned to him in curiosity when he’d splayed out his hands over the steering wheel, looking honestly curious, “What do you listen to? You had Kanses in your motorcycle..” “Mostly fan renditions.. Fandom Raps, Parody songs..” she listed off a few calmly, watching as his face contorted with curiosity and confusion. She smiled then, reaching over to grasp his shoulder and give him a conforming squeeze. “Maybe I’ll show you if I can get my hands on a guitar.”

“You play guitar?” he asked quietly. He was acutely aware of where her hand was holding onto the fabric of his shirt, his eyes staying firmly planted on the dash of his car as he tried to work through what exactly was churning in his gut. It sure as Hell wasn't  _ lust _ , was it? It didn’t feel like lust, not to mention that would be more than a little gross. She was practically a kid.. Well, no, she was adult, certainly, but..

What, was she..?

She was..

She was  _ something.. _

But nothing.. Nothing really seemed to  _ fit _ ..

“-ostly lullabies and opera.”

She turned to him expectantly then, waiting for her next question to answer, and he seemed startled out of his daze and into the immediate present. Looking up at the neon lights of the bar, as if seeing them for the first time, he shook his head quickly, and moved to get out of the car. How long had they been sitting there?

She slipped out after him, her smile still in place as she trotted up beside him and followed him into the decently-clean bar. The theme was old school sports, with black-and white photos of famous players, bats and hockey sticks hung up in places, mitts or masks in others. There were even a few jerseys from teams they weren’t immediately able to name.

Dean scored them a booth with a decent view of the place from the corner, nodding at the waiter as he took their orders and then left again to retrieve them.

Dean took a moment to study the woman beside him while she was distracted in looking over the offered menu the bar provided. Her shining hazel eyes skimmed the hand-written laminate intently, teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she mouthed the items to herself in silence.

“I’m thinking nachos. Do you want nachos? I’m thinking nachos.”

Her words cut into his revery, and he sat a bit straighter, flicking his eyes down to the menu she’d offered him with a smile. A calm one, the smile she gave when she’d talk about food or her preferred methods of organization. 

“Nachos sound pretty good right about now,” he nodded in agreement, and the beam that she’d given him was almost comical in the way that it nearly blinded him. “Great, I’ll go make the order.”

She got up and walked to the main bar, Dean’s eyes scanning the people around the relatively crowded place to make sure nothing odd stuck out.

Well, if several people turning to stare as she walked past wasn’t odd, then..

He’d almost completely gotten up when he watched a cocky sonofabitch playful swat her ass as she passed, his eyes snapping open as wide as they could have when her arm swung back nonchalauntly, grasped the assholes wrist and twisted it until it popped. He gave a shout, cutting off his laughter that he’d shared with his equally sleazy friends, looking up at her in surprise. Most likely at the speed in which she’d done it. The glare she gave the table would have had them pissing themselves if they were any less of men than they already were.

Dean couldn’t hold back the chortle that left his lips when she’d flashed them a dark, daring smile, and continued to the bar without a word, offering what sounded like a muffled apology to the bartender and asking politely if she could have a large order of nachos.

Numbly, the man nodded, eyeing up the table of sleazes as they slammed down their cash and hurried to leave the establishment, shooting the woman looks of anger and disguised terror.

Bastards.

By the time CJ had returned to the table the waiter had brought him their drinks, and he grunted at the ridiculous look of CJ’s overly frilly, pink concoction with a bizarre crazy straw and more whip cream than was probably recommended. It even had a little red strawberry and a hawaiian umbrella-!

“What even is that?” he scoffed, sipping at his tumble of bear and eyeing the pitcher they’d been given. “It’s vanilla vodka, chocolate syrup and strawberry ice cream.. I think they called it a ‘Beautiful Lie Cocktail’.” She took her first sip after she’d said it, her eyes going wide as she made a soft sound of enjoyment and grinned around the straw, pulling back and then sliding her drink to be practically in front of his face. “Oh my lollipops-  _ Dean-  _ Dean you’ve gotta try this-!”

He eyed the drink with a snort, looking at her over the rim of his mug with a bitch face that would have put Sam’s to shame. “It’s girly.”

“You tried on Rhonda Hurley’s satin pink panties and you liked it- don’t you  _ dare _ pull the ‘girly’ card on me Dean Winchester.”

He spit up some of his beer with a cough, shooting her a look of absolute disbelief. Seriously-?! She knew  _ that-?! _

“Seriously?” he repeated, aloud this time, feeling the need to say it when she’d only given him a goading expression. “How do you even-  _ why-?!” _

“Because it was funny and I remembered it from a conversation you will have with your future self in twenty fourteen. You were sent forward in time and you need to convince your future self that you’re actually you so you say that and it’s funny because Cas is a hippy who’s into orgies and pot and everything’s gone to shit but it’s not real because angel’s are douchebags..” She finished her speel with a large slurp of her drink before pushing it at the stunned man again. “Now drink, pretty boy. I am not going to come to a bar and leave as the only one hammered.”

“You think I’m pretty," he chuffed, his eyes fluttering shut as a headache pounded behind his eyes, “Just- please don’t talk about time travel again.. It just.. It’s painful to try to wrap my head around all that..”

“Sorry..” she murmured.

Hearing the actual apology in her tone, as well as something a bit more sad, he sucked up his pride and grabbed the drink from her toying fingers, taking a thick slurp from the straw in appeasement then pausing with a soft hum. “That’s.. Actually not half bad..”

“I am picky when it comes to my drinks and food,” she grinned, “You’ll never catch me with anything bitter.”


	17. Chapter 17

Dean and CJ walked into the motel room the next morning rather calmly, with only a minor buzzing behind CJ’s eyes as she grasped the back of Dean’s jacket and he lead her inside. She hummed quietly as they walked past Sam, and she immediately set out to picking up her bag, her blanket, and tossing the pillow she’d left in the chair back onto Dean’s abandoned bed. 

“Dean, what are you doing..?”

Sam’s voice was lower than usual, his tone bordering on kicked puppy and chastised child. He glanced at CJ, who he could see sporting some black aviator sunglasses over her eyes, her face pale as she methodically folded her things into her bag, Dean merely shoving his things into his duffel as he went. “Are-.. Are you  _ leaving _ or-”

Dean cut him off briskly, his voiced clipped and laced with sarcastic casualty. “Oh, you don’t need me and CJ. You and  _ Ruby  _ go and fight demons.”

“Hold on, Dean-” Sam moved to counter his brother's steps, but Dean was having none of it, turning smoothly when his brother grasped at his elbow and clocking him square across the jaw. His brother grunted in pain, falling back a few steps with the momentum, he’d heard a high pitched, startled grunt from behind him, meaning he’d probably spooked CJ with his sudden violence, but he ignored it, his anger for his brother spiking up from its simmer over the night. Sam straightened up after a moment, looking up to his brother with an expression that he knew he deserved that.

“Satisfied?”

Dean took another swing, harder this time, but a thump from behind him was all the warning before the only women in the newly-dubbed trio cried out in pain and anger.

“Fucking _ oww-!” _

Sam had fallen back again, but this time both boys had turned sharply at her cry, seeing the woman trembling as she clutched her jaw, nearly doubled over as she gripped on the edge of the wall-divider. “Fuck Dean.. Nice hook, but  _ oww _ \- Was the second one  _ necessary- _ ?!”

“CJ-” Dean breathed out the name like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut, and the reminder that she was linked flashed across his brain briefly before he was rushing up to her, his hands raised as if to check the injury, but halted a few steps away, so as not to be in her face. “CJ-  _ crap _ \- I am  _ so _ sorry..”

“I’m not mad, I knew it was coming..” her mutter did little to pacify him, and he physically flinched at the implication that she  _ knew  _ she was going to be slugged by him,  _ twice _ , and didn’t say a word. “Talk to Sam,” her murmurs were breathy, and he could see the smallest drop of blood coming from her lip, probably from biting it, though it was nearly identical to the wound Sam was now sporting as well. 

“I’m so-”

“So help me  _ Lollipops, _ if you tell me you’re sorry for putting your brother in his place I will slug you  _ myself _ , consequences be damned.” Her derisive snort made the smallest, subtle twitch of his lips hint at a smile, but the grief that he’d just inadvertently hurt another woman was-

“Talk. To Sam.  _ Now, Cowboy _ .”

He nodded silently when she’d tugged on the strap of her bag, now much more balanced, but keeping her hand over the front of her jaw. He was going to need to rethink his urges next time he felt the need to lay out Sam for his stupid decisions.

When she’d finally left the room, he took a deep, calming breath, and turned to shoot Sam with the most, stern, level-headed expression he could muster. “Do you even know how far off the reservation you’ve gone?” Sam shifted in his spot lightly, eyes flickering from place to place as he waited to make his piece. “How far from  _ human _ ?”

“I’m just exorcising demons,” Sam tried to interrupt, but that had been the wrong move because Dean’s tightly wound temper unravelled some, his voice rising sharply. “ _ With your mind- _ !” It was silent for a few counts, each brother searching the others eyes. Dean broke the silence first. “What else can you do?”

“I can send them back to hell, it only works with demons and that’s it..”

Dean was frustrated, his anger boiling over the lip of the pot as he stalked forward, grasping Sam’s collar and sharply walking him back, “What else can you do-?!”

“I  _ told _ you-!” Sam broke his hold roughly, keeping his eyes locked on his brother’s as they both fumbled for even breaths. Dean scoffed, low and under his breath, giving his brother a look of utter betrayal. “And I have every reason in the world to believe that?”

“You believe CJ-!” Sam pointed out, both annoyed and slightly hurt that his brother had not taken that into thought, “And you barely know her-  _ we _ barely know her-!”

“At least she’s been up front about what she’s doing,” Dean shook his head sharply, “And don’t pin this on her- she’s in  _ pain  _ right now because of us. You leave her out of this- this is between  _ you  _ and  _ me _ , right now.”

“Look I should've said something. I’m sorry, Dean, I am,” Sam’s voice was pleading, but firm, he didn’t regret his actions, just his lack of notifying his brother. “But try to see the other side here-”

“The other side-?!” Dean’s voice cut him off sharply, and Sam raised his voice a bit louder to match his, “I’m pulling demons out of innocent people-!” 

“Use the knife-!”

“The knife kills the victims-!” Sam protested. And Dean had to force himself to ignore the puppy-like quality of Sam’s eyes that had won every other,  _ normal _ argument they’d ever had before. “What I do, most of them survive-!”

Dean was silent in the few seconds he took to process this, and Sam hurried to continue, grasping at the straws he could see floating there, “Look, I’ve saved more people in the last five months than we save in a year-!”

Dean swallowed, a sad, defeated look clouding his eyes as his voice lowered, far from the boiling anger of earlier, now replaced with quiet, tepid resignation. He’d left his brother to turn into this. “Is that what Ruby wants you to think?” Sam shifted on his feet, acknowledging the jab but not commenting when Dean continued. “Kind of like the way she tricked you into using your powers..? Slippery slope, brother.. Just wait and see..” His voice was near a whisper at the end, and the barest gleam of tears seemed to mist in his eyes. “Because it’s gonna get darker, and darker. And God knows where it ends.”

“I’m not gonna let it go too far,” Sam protested immediately at the implication, hackles raising as he strained, and yearned for his brother, to just  _ once _ see his side of the story.

Dean nodded, jerking his head up and down as he battled the urge to punch him again. But CJ’s face flashed in his mind, and without prompt he’d turned, swiping the lamp off of the table sharply and sending it crashing to the ground in large, broken pieces.

“It’s already gone too far, Sam,” he took a moment to wet his lips, the dryness in his building tension as he slowly moved to stand directly toe-to-toe with his brother, “If I didn’t know you.. I would want to hunt you..”

Sam nodded in silence, biting the inner lining of his lip firmly, but not to the point of pain.

“And so would other hunters.” Dean’s add on was no less firm, or raspy, but it was just another hit to the belt that Sam silently begged for him to stop. 

“You were gone,” he started quietly, looking up from the carpet to meet his brother’s eyes with a firmness, and a masquerading maturity he felt, but did not truly have, “I was here. I had to keep on fighting without you. And what I’m doing… ..it works.”

Dean inhaled slowly, the ghost of a sarcastic smile on his lips as he laughed lightly beneath his breath. Was his brother being serious? Taking a step back, clasping his hands together in front of him firmly to resist the urge of taking another swing, his tone light, airy and conversational, “So tell me.. If it’s so terrific..” he met his brother’s eyes then, and the sternness, the fear, the anger, all of it melded into some dark, fearful pit in his eyes as the words dripped from his mouth like syrup and honey. “Then why’d you lie about it to me?”

Sam let his eyes fall to the floor, and the chastised child expression had returned to his posture and expression. Dean ignored that, trying to drill into his brother’s head how screwed up and wrong this entire situation was. “Why did an  _ angel _ , have to tell me to stop you..?”

Sam shot his eyes up to him in shock, disbelief coursing through his veins like ice. The  _ angel  _ told Dean- not CJ, like he’d first thought, but the  _ angel _ -?! “What-?”

“Cas said,” Dean cut him off sharply, his voice wavering with his emotions all messed up, muddled and churning, “That if I don’t stop you.. .. _ he _ will.”

Sam’s mouth pressed tight at the words, his gut churning uncomfortably as Dean continued in his soft, almost physically pained voice.

“Do you know what that means, Sam?.. That means that  _ God, does not want _ you doing this..” He huffed a little at his brother’s expression, continuing with a sarcastic lilt to his tone, “So are you just gonna stand there and tell me that everything is all good?”

Sam’s eyes were misting over with tears, and he opened his mouth to speak, then pressed it shut again. Both boys sitting in the silence for a few precious seconds to go over what had finally been put out in the open. A ring cut into the moment, and Sam sniffed, hurrying to reach for the cell in his pocket and bring it to his ear. “Hey, Travis.” He sniffed quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to work himself up to the task of talking to someone else. “Yeah, hey.”

Dean stood, fingers clenching and unclenching in the strap of his bag as he watched his brother pace a few steps around the room as he spoke, voice light, and only slightly strained from their argument. “It’s good to hear your voice, too, yeah.. Ahm- Look, it’s not.. It’s not a really good time right now, it’s..” he trailed off in silence for a few seconds, his expression shifting from pained, to confused, almost desperate to get off the phone, “Yeah, okay, uh.. Well- just.. Just give me the details, and..” He fumbled over to the nightstand between the beds, grabbing the pen and complimentary stationary and scribbling as he spoke. “Carthage, Missouri.. Look for.. A Jack Montgomery..”

Sam hung up the phone quickly, and looked over to his brother, his mouth pressing tightly together as he waited for the elder Winchester to speak. Either to give him a heavy revelation, or chastise him some more, he didn’t know. But when Dean had merely shook his head, and grabbed his bag, heading out the door without a word, he knew he’d screwed up bad enough that it would be a very long car ride, at the very least.


	18. Chapter 18

CJ was already tucked in the backseat, her bag propped up behind her like a pillow and headphones hanging around her neck, her voice cutting off from the song she was singing the second the boys had opened the door. She shot the silent duo a look, before pointedly reaching over the front seat and flicking Dean’s collar. “Cowboy, where are we headed?”

“Carthage, Missouri,” he answered calmly. He glanced back silently when her arm had retreated, tucking back beneath her head like a comfortable pillow as she returned to flipping through the thick, heavy tomb in her lap. He lightened his tone as they pulled out of the motel, exiting onto the street and driving in the direction of the highway, “So.. what are you reading..?”

“Looking into spells,” she shrugged her shoulders casual at his surprised hum, giving him a sly smile when he’d glanced at her through the rearview mirror, “Just binding, and communication.. I wonder if I become a full-threaded witch if I could get a familiar..”

“You’re _not_ becoming a witch,” Dean’s immediate, stern disapproval made his nose twitch just _thinking_ about the disgusting smells he would need to endure. “No way.”

“Bad witches stink, I _know_ Dean,” she scoffed outright at his disapproval, shooting him a look of her own as she narrowed her eyes, “I’m talking about white magic. Stuff that’s _good_ for the soul.. You know, hex bags are generally bad, I’m talking energy bags, crystal bags.. Stuff that _doesn’t_ stink, and keeps you safe, without having to sell your damn soul for power..”

“It seems useful..” Sam offered quietly, glancing back over the seat to look at CJ, who was laid out behind Dean’s chair with her feet outstretched behind Sam’s with ease. She looked up at him from her book in mild surprise, her jaw ticking as her eyes searched his face, and she reached back over her shoulder, pulling a thin black bandana from a pocket of her bag and sitting up. She was crawling over the seat and reaching for Sam before anyone had processed it, and was pressing the cloth to his lip almost instantly. Dean nearly jumped when she’d hung herself half over the front seat, keeping herself balanced with a hand on the front leather edge and keeping her eyes trained on Sam as he sat, unmoving, as she wiped away the blood on his mouth, and dried the sweat from his forehead, before pulling back without a word, and shoving the rag in her pocket. She plopped back into her seat with silence, returning to her tomb with concentration and ignoring the burning stares of both brother’s, Dean’s more brief and wavering as he juggled looking at her and at the road.

Not another word was spoken until they’d gone for gas.

* * *

“Any heads up we should have about this case?” Dean asked almost playfully as he pumped gas into the Impala, glancing toward the woman hanging out of the back seat with a coke pressed against her cheekbone and chin. He winced at the memory of inadvertently punching her, but pressed it away at her snort of amusement. “Not unless you’ve got a flamethrower in the back..”

“Fire?” he confirmed, just to be certain, when she sent him a small, uneasy smile. She was nervous again. Though he couldn’t tell exactly why.

“Yeah,” she nodded then, her fingers finally twisting the cap of the drink, releasing a pressurized hiss as she watched the bubbles rise, but not crest the bottle, almost in a trance. “Take my word for it, you’ll want to be CDC for this one..”

“CDC?” he felt like a parrot now, trying to decipher her words into scenarios, but he was coming up blank. He fell completely silent, however, when Sam returned from the inside, a bag tucked in his arm and a hesitant smile on his face. When Dean merely tucked the pump back into place and moved to return to his seat, the taller male let out a slow sigh, closing his eyes to center himself before moving to get into his own seat. Handing the bag to Dean, he plucked out a handful of the sharable-sized M&Ms bags he’d bought, silently holding them out over the back of the seat and watching CJ’s eyes lock onto his hand like a laser.

He felt his mouth twitching into a smile at the way she slowly closed her book and tucked it aside, eyes narrowing as she eyed the treats like a cat.

“Are you trying to _bribe_ me, Winchester?”

His smile disappeared in a flash, and a stabbing guilt remained when she’d turned her narrow glare to his face. All of a sudden, she reached out to snatch the treats, giving him a slow, level glare with a head tilt, “Because that is actually a very smart move on your part. Well done.”

She tore open the bag without another word, emptying about half of it into her mouth before she returned to her lounging position, her teeth giving a crunching sound as Dean gave her a startled, exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“Eat your damn pie, Cowboy.”

* * *

It was late into the night of the drive, and Dean had finally caved in giving Sam the details of his trip with Castiel. Well, most of the details. His brother didn’t need to know that he’d had brief, indecent thoughts about their blonde haired parent.

“I can’t believe.. It.. _Mom_ , a _hunter_..?”

Sam’s voice was of pure disbelief, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. Dean’s voice was still a bit choken. Still reeling from his fight with Sam, and the implications of everything piling up at once. And from all that, CJ slept in the back, absolutely dead to the world, unmoving and silent as the boys talked.

“I wouldn’t have believed it either, if I hadn’t seen it myself.” He chuckled a little, his memories growing fond as he recalled just the way she had fought him. “Boy, that woman could kick some ass. I mean, she almost took _me_ down.”

“How’d she look?” Sam asked quietly after a second, his shoulders relaxing with the conversation, “I mean… was she happy?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded firmly, “She was awesome. You know, funny and smart. So hopeful.” He shot a look to his brother that conveyed just how much of that description was fitting to a younger Sam, and returned his eyes to the road soon after. “You know, Dad, too.. Until, of course..”

Sam let out a throaty sigh, turning his gaze out the window to look at the starry night.

“What?” Dean asked calmly, though it could almost be considered brisk.

“Nothing,” Sam whispered, mindful of the woman he could see faintly in the reflection of his mirror, hair down and feet up, just as she normally slept. It was almost comical, the positions they would catch her in when she’d doze on accident. “It’s just our parents, and now we find out our grandparents, too? Our whole family murdered, and for what? So yellow eyes could get in my nursery and bleed in my mouth?”

Dean sat for a second, taking in what Sam had tacked on the end, confusion and apprehension slowly trickling into his brain. He glanced from Sam to the road, and back again, trying to draw a line with how fucked-up this conversation was going, and fast. “Sam, I never said anything about demon blood.”

Sam closed his mouth quickly, catching his mistake just a few seconds too late.

“You knew about that?” Dean demanded.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded quietly, “For about a year.”

“A whole year,” Dean repeated, the sarcasm leaking into his tone as his finsts flexed over the steering wheel.

“Look, I should've told you, I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. A grunt came from the back, though neither brother had heard.

“You’ve been saying that a lot Sam-”

A scream erupted from the woman behind them, and Dean had to cut into a swerve, stepping on the break sharply as the woman sat up with a cry, her hands reaching out for nothing as she clawed at air, her voice strained with haze and sleep as she croaked out another pained scared scream. “ _Sam-?!”_

“Fuck- CJ-!” Dean’s shout made her body jerk, but she had locked in place, her fingers curling as she had brought one knee up, her body now stiff as Dean hauled the car to the side of the road and slammed it into park. He hurried out of his side of the car, Sam hurrying to follow suit as they made their way to the passenger door behind Sam, swinging it open suddenly so Dean could grasp her shoulders and haul her out. “ _Dammit._ Sam-! Come here-!”

“What, what’s wrong?” he hurried to her side, hesitating when Dean had shot him a serious look, but when he’d passed her the stiff girl, nearly forcing her into his arms, he felt the tremors of her body shuddering along her limbs and spine, racing from her head to her feet as she muttering in a quiet, foreign language. “What’s wrong with her-? What do we do?”

“Give her a minute,” Dean murmured quietly, his eyes locked on the tangled main of brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and nearly brushed the ground. He reached forward quickly to gently move it over Sam’s bended knee, ignoring his brother’s confused, pleading look that begged him to give directions to fix the problem. “Just wait..”

They sat in silence as she shuddered, muttering softly, then louder, almost as if she were talking to someone in a room, before lowering it back to pained whispers. They couldn’t understand a word of it.

She sat up with a scream almost a full five minutes later, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to claw at her bangs with a screech of breath, her eyes swinging around until they landed on Sam. She’d flung herself at him without a thought, tears streaming down her face as a wail erupted from her throat. She muttered things in English, then, stringing sentences along between sobs as she tried to reassure herself that Sam was still there. She was holding Sam. Sam was not in a cage. Sam had not fallen into a hole. Sam was fine. Dean was fine. Dean was not hurt.

It took another few minutes for her to calm down again, and when she’d fallen completely silent, tucked against Sam’s chest like an overgrown toy, he’d moved to put her in the back seat, and faltered at the stern, unmoving resistance.

“Just get in the back.”

Dean’s order surprised him, but he kept quiet, and did as he was told after the elder brother had continued. “She’s not going to let go for a while, just lay in the back with her for a few hours. I’ll wake you when we change shifts or if we stop.”

Dean had returned to the driver’s seat, and given his brother a long, searching look when he looked into the rearview mirror, but the pain on her face was gone, and with a deep breath, he shook his head, and continued on their drive to Carthage.


	19. Chapter 19

CJ was left at the motel while the brothers played stakeout, said female having spent the day with one of the boy’s credit cards and shopping. Dean had initially asked why the Hell she felt the need, until she informed him, quite directly, what a Rougarou was, what they did, how they transformed and how to kill it. She wanted to make this go as smooth as possible, and from the solemn, stern look in her eyes, he could tell something serious was going to happen very soon.

“And we’re looking for..?” Dean’s voice trailed into Sam’s thoughts after he replayed the memory, and he shook his head before returning his attention to the run-of-the-mill suburban home, “Travis said to keep an eye out for anything weird.”

“Weird?” Dean repeated, snorting a bit as he brought the binoculars to his face. “Yeah,” Sam nodded, scoffing a little as he too took in the irony of the quaint cul de sac-like feel of the neighborhood. They could see a figure in the window of the kitchen, hunched over what they assumed was a fridge. And Sam couldn’t help but ask the question nagging at the back of his mind. “What if CJ’s wrong about this? I mean, Travis hasn't even told us what this guy is. What if she’s taking a stab in the dark, or if she’s just improvising?”

“Has she been wrong, yet?” Dean asked calmly. Sam frowned, but otherwise didn’t comment on that, returning his gaze to the window with a frown as the ‘weird’ behavior started kicking in.

…

Dean was almost certain CJ would have gagged at the sight, though knowing her, she’d seen it a number of times already.

“I’d say that qualifies as weird,” Sam murmured.

* * *

They returned to the room at dawn, Dean hoping not to walk in on CJ with another one of her attacks, like they’d done twice now in the past few weeks. Once with him in the car on a food run, and then once alone with Sam. He was hoping it wouldn’t become a regular thing. He didn’t mind the inconvenience as much as he minded the fact that she was in pain, and terrified over eighty percent of the time, and she still managed to demand a place in their little circle.

Despite both of the boys efforts, they refused to acknowledge the silent pull that breathed with relief when she was near and in sight. The pull quieting with every step closer they took to the room they’d bought.

Sam half expected to find CJ curled upside down on the offered chair, maybe surfing his laptop for useful information, or her ‘writing’ purposes she had forbidden him to see. She’d even hacked it by writing a code he’d need several passwords in order to get into the document.

And he thought  _ Bobby  _ was paranoid.

What he didn’t expect to see was an older man, with a cast on his right arm, swinging down a beer as he sat across from a woman in a pantsuit, looking clean, put together, and, surprisingly attractive. It was embarrassing to admit, for both boys, that it took them several long moments to see that that was CJ.

She looked older, now, in a sleek black pantsuit, with a soft blue tie around her white collared shirt. Her hair was pinned up in a practical twist, with pins keeping it neat and tidy. She sipped calmly at a glass of coke, her eyes firmly on the man who sat across from her. Hazel orbs narrowed, calculative and unsettled.

“Travis,” Dean’s bright, cool call had brought the attention to the men entering, the pure look of relief on CJ’s face only going missed by the man now standing up to greet the Winchester brothers.

“See Sam,” Dean scoffed, giving his brother a playful nod, “I told you we should’ve hid the beer.”

“Smartass, get over here” the man laughed, walking up to Dean who opened his arms and gave him a quick, firm hug. Sam stood back with a smile, flicking his eyes toward CJ who was now bent over the table with a glare on her face and a pained twist of lips, a hand pressing lightly to her temple as she took the moment to collect herself. Her eyes shot up to meet his almost immediately, and when they met, he resisted the urge to look away, holding her eyes when she tilted her head in an almost apologetic fashion, before returning to her quite moment, and sitting up with a firm, resolute square of her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s good to see ya,” Travis pat Dean’s back quickly, and Sam realized his silent exchange with the woman had lasted mere seconds. He was pulled into a hug next, having to bend a bit awkwardly. “Good to see ya,” he repeated to the younger male, patting his back much the same as he did Dean’s as the taller brunette chuckled. “You too, Travis.”

He pulled back with a laugh, looking the boy up and down with wide eyes and a grin, “Man you got tall kid, how long’s it been?”

“Gotta be.. Ten years..?” Sam tried, shaking his head as he drew up the memory of seeing him last. What was he.. Fourteen..? Fifteen..?

“You still a-.. Oh what was it, uh- A mathlete?” Travis asked pointedly, the playfulness in his grin only turning brighter when the younger Winchester ducked his head with a nervous chuckle. “ _ No _ .” His eyes shot to CJ briefly, seeing the soft expression there and almost missing the way Dean’s hand had patted his upper back, almost too hard, but hard enough that he felt it. “Yep, sure is.”

Travis laughed at the playful ribbing, sharing a look between the boys with a reverent sigh. “Been too long, boys. I mean look at you. Grown men.. John would have been damn proud of you. Sticking together like this”

The snort from CJ caught all of their attentions, and she stood quickly from her seat to go towards the door. “I need some air.”

Travis raised his eyebrows in surprise at the curt, reserved woman who barely spoke three words to him. She’d gotten up and left the room without a look back, taking a glance at the boys, he could tell something was up, and started to poke. “So, who’s is she?” he directed his smile at Dean, his shoulders relaxed, but his eyebrows raised in question, “She yours or Sam’s?” 

“Neither,” Dean gave a scoff that bordered on startled, flashing him a grin that was just a  _ bit _ too wide. “She’s a pistol all her own.”

“I’ll say,” Travis gave a snort, flicking his eyes toward the silent, closed door, “Barely spoke three words to me before she sat down, didn’t say another peep. Wouldn’t even tell me her name. Just looked at me.”

“She’s like that around strangers,” Sam gave an almost convincing chuckle, but the confusion and strain in both of their eyes seemed to bring a new line of questioning in. Travis silently moved himself to sit on the bed, and the boys gravitated toward similar seats elsewhere while the hunter got comfy. “Well, where’d you find her? Last I checked, the feds didn’t really tie into these sorts of things.”

“Feds?” Sam repeated, almost surprised by the loud snort that Dean gave, though he quickly covered it with a cough. “No, she’s not a Fed, Travis. Not even close.”

“Really,” he seemed legitimately surprised by that, looking between them in confusion, “She don’t look like no hunter. Too sophisticated for just taggin’ along, either.”

“She’s not a hunter,” Sam pointed out calmly, trying to piece together exactly  _ what _ CJ was without telling him  _ exactly _ what CJ was.

“She’s just.. Something..” Dean finished for his brother, the calm, almost hazy look in his eyes seeming to speak enough for the veteran hunter before he shook his head and waved them off with a scoff, “Right, don’t tell old Travis about your girl, I get it, Dean. Let’s get to business then, shall we?

“So, you track down Montgomery?” He asked, point blank and serious. It was time for the job, they could reminisce later. Dean nodded, and Sam clarified verbally. “Yeah, we found him at his home.”

“And?” Travis prompted.

“He had a Hell of a case of the munchies,” Dean answered simply, wringing his hands in his lap as he shook his head, the disgusting image of the man slurping down raw meat bringing a shudder to his spine. “Topped off with a burger, that he forgot to cook.”

“That’s him alright,” Travis let out a resigned sigh. 

“What’s him?” Dean asked almost immediately.

“Boys, we got a Rougarou on our hands.”

Travis expected them to look confused, knowing the breed was far from common and even less heard of. He expected them to ask him what it was, he’d even had the explanation mapped out in his head, but when Dean had sent Sam a pointed, almost borderline irritated look, and Sam had lowered his head to the side with a cough, he had gotten curious.

“Alright, you boys best tell me what’s going on,” his voice was firm, despite being hoarse, and he leveled a look at both that commended respect, “I ain’t never been known to be a fool. And I ain’t startin’ that assumption, now.”

It was Sam who’s shot Dean a look this time, the brothers silently communicating between each other for several long seconds, before they were saved from the conversation when a knock tapped across the door. Dean rose to get it silently, grabbing his gun from his waistband and pressing it to the door smoothly before peaking out, then completely putting it away to let the woman in. 

It was the first good look the boys had gotten of her since they’d come, taking in her shining black high heels, the trim of her suit, the fit of the material around her bust and waist, as well as the updo of her hair and the simple small pearl earrings in her ears. She also had a pair of glasses tucked in the pocket of her blazer, but they were as fake as could be.

“You boys are going to be dressed and ready to leave in an hour,” she closed the phone she had been holding to her ear with a snap, and directed a small glare at Dean when she caught his hazy, wandering eyes, “ _ Cowboy,  _ my face is up here.” His eyes snapped to her face in surprise, and he offered her a quick, embarrassed smile, scratching the side of his cheek as he shook his head and glanced toward his brother, though he was giving the woman similar looks, Travis doing something borderline between appraisal and investigative.

“I’m ready to go, I just need my bag. You’ve got the plan ready?”

“I’m sorry, what plan are you talking about, sweet cheeks?” Travis asked curiously. His eyes narrowed at the previously silent woman, and she gave him a cool, blank stare in return. “The plan to inform Mr Montgomery of his condition and provide a solution to the problem.”

“Solution,” he scoffed, giving the woman a stare of prime disbelief, “Do you have any idea what a Rougarou  _ is, _ girl?

She narrowed her eyes at the elder man slowly, her hand slowly letting the purse she had reached for fall back onto the motel chair with a soft thump. Slowly turning back around, she kept her shoulders held high and her expression stern, walking up to be just a few short feet from the man. “I think I have a bit more of an idea about the situation than you seem to believe.”

“How do you kill it?” he asked sternly.

“You burn it,” her eyes flashed with something almost primal, and Sam felt a shudder shoot up his spine at the sight of the woman now standing toe-to-toe with the man in front of her, eyes narrowed as she clenched her teeth, “Now  _ you  _ tell  _ me _ , how do you halt the transformation?”

“There is no cure,” Travis shook his head, scoffing, the woman in front of him raising the hackles on the back of his neck. What was weird was that neither Sam, or Dean seemed inclined to step forward to correct her, or tell her off. They seemed curious, however, and looked contented just watching the exchange. Travis, already baffled by the girl’s suddenly bold interference, seemed particularly bothered by this. “Don’t you know anything girl?”

“I know about eight different spells that will permanently halt his transformation. Not to mention the fact that he has absolutely no idea what is happening, and if we take a softer approach with this, we may have a chance at convincing him to allow the treatment.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed, glaring at her sternly when her eyes only flashed with fire and annoyance. “He has hurt no one, yet,” she spoke calmly, despite the tension in her shoulders, and gave the man in front of her a slow, pointed glare, “Let us handle it. That’s why you called, isn’t it? You are injured, and are not able to handle this on your own? If you try, you will not like the results.”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, little miss,” his frown was now front and center, and both boys were now getting a bit antsy as they watched the tension beneath her skin coil and bubble like hot oil. Dean was prepared to step in if it got physical, while Sam merely looked ready to shield either Travis or CJ, whoever was on the receiving end of the beginning punch.

“He needs the proper information if he wants to survive this sickness,” she practically spit the words out of her mouth, and the elder man scoffed out a laugh so dry it was a wonder his throat hadn’t gone with it. 

“You ever been hungry? Like, haven’t-eaten-in-days, hungry?”

“I went two weeks without eating, sitting beside a grave with absolutely no fucking clue on why I was there,” she was in his face now, the pure anger and annoyance she’d shown him cutting off his rant mid-swing as she took over for him sharply, “Next you’re gonna ask if you plopped some big, juicy steak in front of me, if I would just walk away. And you wanna know what-? I  _ would _ walk away. I  _ am _ strong enough to walk away. Because I know that I would rather die of starvation than hurt someone else with my problems. And you will damn well remember that. This man deserves a chance to live, and I will give him that chance. It is what he deserves. You will not interfere with that. And if I catch you anywhere  _ near  _ that house, if I catch wind of this man dying a mysterious death, I will hunt  _ you _ down, and take out a real monster in that process.” She spun on her heal after she’d finished, snatching her purse off of the chairbrushing past Dean with a flick of her bangs.

The door slammed shut again, and Sam made a small, grunting sound, both boys staring wide-eyed at the door as if she hadn’t just slammed it. Dean, seemingly agreeing with his brother, gave a slow, small nod, “Holy crap..”

“Is she always like this?” Travis was too wound up in his anger to see the looks of blank, concerned longing in the boys eyes as they gazed at the exit in silence, “You’d think a lady travelling with a couple alpha dogs would be a bit more compliant.”

“She’s.. Usually a lot.. Meaner,” Sam offered after a moment, tearing himself away from the door and moving to grab his duffel bag, searching for the shirt he would need and the correct badge. “Dean, hurry up. Get dressed.”

The elder Winchester didn’t need reminded twice.

* * *

CJ’s expensive black heels tapped restlessly on the asphalt of the motel parking lot.

When this job was over, she was taking a damned nap.

Visions be damned, she needed sleep.

She looked up just as the boys came waltzing out the door, tipping her head up in greeting before narrowing her eyes at their outfits. Both wore dark blue suits, with even darker ties, and she frowned a bit at the symmetry before walking up to them and holding out her hands for them to stop. In the back of her mind, she should have made note of how sudden they’d listened to her orders, but as she straighten Sam’s tie, and adjusted Dean’s jacket, she brushed off his shoulders and smiled. “Alright, let’s go. Try to let me lead. No offense, but your brotherly dynamic is quite off the mark as of late. And if anyone asks, you're my bodyguards due to the sensitivity of the information. Capisce?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Dean’s voice rumbled curtly, his eyes catching hers when she’d given him a wide, over dramatic eye roll and slid into the back seat. “Get in the car, Winchester.”

She was safely inside with the door shut as the brothers slowly moved to their respective doors. Before they’d grasped the door handles, however, they’d looked up at the exact same moment, and met each others eyes with a confused sort of camaraderie. Sam blinked twice, and Dean blew out a long, loud sigh, shaking his head. 

Silently, they slipped into the car, and Dean started the engine with a great rumble.

They had a job to do.


	20. Chapter 20

CJ knocked firmly at the door of the Montgomery household at five-fifteen sharp. Sam and Dean stood resolutely behind her, jest a few steps back, like she’d instructed. When a dark, curly haired woman opened the door with a confused expression, she offered a small, relaxing smile, and gestured toward the barely-opened door. “You are Mrs Montgomery, I assume?”

“I am,” she nodded slightly, flicking her eyes from the two, intimidating men behind the woman back to the woman herself. She looked well put-together, official and firm with purpose. “Is something wrong?”

“Unfortunately yes,” CJ nodded softly, giving the woman a patient, practiced smile as she glanced toward the hallway behind her. “Is there a Mr Montgomery home, as well? This would be a familial conversation best held in private.”

“Who are you?” the woman seemed a little unsure, but when the brunette had pulled a badge from the inner linings of her suit coat and showed it calmly to the woman, she relaxed, but only slightly. Why would the CDC be there?

She opened the door as wide as it could go, silently inviting the woman in. Almost surprised, she watched the woman politely remove her heels before stepping inside, placing them delicately outside the door and motioning for the two behind her to do the same. They were very polite, she would admit. “My husband should be down in a minute,” she was nervous, that much was easy to see, and the CDC agent layed a gentle hand on her arm with a reassuring nod. “Of course. Is there a specific place you would feel comfortable sitting for a while? This talk may be a bit lengthy..”

“The.. The living room..” she motioned toward the entryway cut in the wall, and the three offered her light smiles as they moved to sit down. The female sat on one end of a small couch, one of her knees crossing over the other politely, while the shorter of the two males sat at the other end, stern and unmoving. The tallest merely stood by the opening, his eyes trained on the doorway and sliding to the windows every now and then.

“Thank you very much for the hospitality, Mrs Montgomery,” the woman offered the raven with a gentle smile, “I understand you are nervous, and I can assure you, I bring bad news, but good news all the more.”

“My husband should be down in a minute,” she smiled a little toward the group, but it was strained. “I was just about to start cooking dinner.” “You may need to put that on hold, Mrs. Montgomery,” CJ’s voice was firm, but relaxed enough that it wasn’t harsh, “I expect you may not even want to eat after this. Please understand that this is  _ sensitive _ information. Meaning anything we say here will stay in this room, between us.”

It wasn’t five minutes of waiting later, after the woman had gone to get her husband, that they were all sitting, tense and reserved in the living room. Sam was still positioned strategically near the exit, and Dean was light on the front of his feet. They both stayed silent, per their agreement, flicking their eyes between the woman they travelled with and the two concerned people huddled close on a couch across from her.

“What is this about?” Jack asked quietly. There was a tenseness behind his eyes, his wife clutching his hand as he settled it over his right knee. “Why are the CDC here?”

“We have recently undergone a change in management over the last several months, and due to the recent shift, we’ve been informed that many of our more secured records have been lost in the re-establishment. Your name, Mr Montgomery, was on one of these files.”

“Me..” he blinked quickly at the woman sitting there, relaxed, with a soft haze of apology on her face, “What do you mean-? Why would the CDC have a file on me-?” His voice raised a bit, but it was more with the strain of the reveal than anything. His wife looked frantically between the two of them, fumbling for the words as she leaned closer to the woman, as if searching, “You- You said there was good news, right?”

“There is bad news, first,” she nodded, “But there is good news. Unfortunately, they tie together quite closely..”

“Well what is it?” he demanded sharply. His muscles were coiled, and Dean stayed tense beside her, giving her a slight nod only when she’d given his shoulder a soft pat, her gaze unwavering from the man in front of her. “I have a few questions, first, Mister Montgomery. It is imperative that you answer honestly.” She pulled the small booklet from her bag, as well as pulling a pen from her blazer pocket, clicking it open and giving him a calm look, “Have you, at any point in time, gotten a woman pregnant? Any children at all, we need record of this, immediately.”

“No,” he scoffed, his eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked extraordinarily stunned, “What is going on-?!”

“Mister Montgomery, you have a gene in your body that is a primal hazard. If it goes unchecked, you could very well become a danger to the people closest to you.”

“What?” his voice was a whisper now, and the woman beside him had gone absolutely pale. “What do you mean- what are you talking about-?”

“It is a dormant gene,” CJ explained slowly, her expression calm as she offered them a soft nod, “And, when treated, completely harmless. However, I need all known origins of this gene to be examined, and treated.”

“I.. I don’t  _ have _ some messed up gene-!” Jack had gotten to his feet then, staring at her with disbelief and anger. She watched him calmly, her eyes slowly narrowing as she flipped her book shut and left it beside Dean. “Have you experienced a sudden, rapid increase of appetite?”

The woman beside him stayed silent, eyes blown wide as she looked from her tense, strung-out husband to the woman now standing in front of him politely, hands behind her back. “Have you experienced any sudden, shocking pains in your spinal area? As if it were  _ crawling  _ beneath your skin..?”Jack watched her in silence, his mouth parting around words that his throat dared not let out. “Have you been feeling antsy, anxious..?”

“What is it..?”

The question had come from the woman, who now sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, clutching her stomach as if sick or in pain. “What is it called- what does it do?”

“Honey-” Jack started, but the CDC woman had cleared her throat, and gestured for him to sit down, “I take it you’ve noticed these symptoms. This makes my job much easier. And now for the good news, there is a treatment to halt the process of the gene. Due to your being a fully grown adult, we would need to administer several injections, as well as the aromatic therapy, however, should you have a child, any at all below the age of ten, or so, we would need only for the aromatic treatment, no needles required.”

“You can- you can cure..” Jack murmured, his hands waving as his fingers crawled anxiously up and down his arms, “You can cure this, then?”

“I can  _ halt _ , this, Mister Montgomery,” she shook her head, offering him an apologetic smile. “You would be unable to have children after, I would highly recommend that you receive a full vasectomy and dispose of the remains. The procedure would last no more than eight hours. And we are able to do it from the comfort of your home, I understand that this disease is not at all common, barley known, as it was, but we are going to make this process as easy and painless as we can..”

“What if we don’t..?” he asked after a moment, his eyes landing between the two hulking men before looking at her again, “What will happen if I say no?” “Then you will change.” She offered him a cool look, this time, servere and almost detached, “You will let it eat away at your judgement like a cancer, you will consume something forbidden, and you will become a monster, in every literal sense. You will become sated only by the flesh of humans, and leave nothing behind but scraps.”

The woman whimpered, her hands flickering up to cover her mouth as she bowed her head, “Oh my god.”

“I’ll ask one last time, now that you both seem to understand the situation,” she nodded toward the two, where Jack had sat down listlessly on the couch while his wife curled up in place, looking defeated. “Are there any children you know of? Even hints at past lovers that may carry a child of yours? This is life and death, and I can assure you, if it is a problem of a mistress, it is not our place to judge.”

“No,” Jack scoffed, his eyes tired as he shook his head, “No, I’ve never-”

“I am,” the woman’s confession croaked, but loud, cutting off her husband as she sat up with a sniffle, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before fixing the now stunned CDC males, and the firm woman with a teary-eyed frown, “I.. I’m pregnant.”

Unsurprised, the woman smiled, shocking the rest of the room as she gave a nod. “I suspected so. I believe congratulations are in order. As well as another fine piece of news. Your child, with treatment, will not grow into the gene, should you choose to allow it, of course. But there is also, unfortunately, the need of removing possible carriers, and I am sorry to say it for the best.” “So.. remove their..” she whispered, almost brokenly.

“It is much preferable to becoming and carrying on a possible cannibalistic urge to an innocent child..” CJ nodded solemnly. The Montgomery’s shared a silent look, Jack, looking both surprised and devastated at the news, shocked overall, and his wife looking merely blank as she processed it, her hand fluttering to her stomach with concern. “And.. there would be no side effects for the baby..?”

“No injections,” CJ nodded calmly, “and it is still accessible to the comfort of your home.The baby would merely need to sleep through eight hours of the aromatic therapy. Under supervision of me, of course. These cases are only handled by specialists, and seeing as the rarity of it is so precise in lineage, there is only a few of us available in the world to handle such cases. I am, to my knowledge, the only available specialist in the country at this time. However, we are pressed for time, and I hope you can look past the lack of options to understand the severity of the treatment.”

It was silent for several long minutes, and Jack took his wife’s hand gently, looking into her eyes with a glazed look of pained acceptance. They nodded, almost synchronized, and turned back to the woman with a nod of agreement. “When can we perform the treatment, and how much is this going to cost?”

“Believe it or not,” the most relieved, and relaxing grin came to CJ’s face, unknowingly relaxing the pregnant woman quite a bit, “Due to the errors of our own incompetent staff, you will receive the treatment for free. We would have gotten here much sooner had we been more diligent in our priorities, and we are at fault. So there will be no payment.”

“Thats.. Wonderful..”

The woman looked almost starstruck as CJ moved, stepping closer to hold out her hand for them each to shake. “We will be back tomorrow to administer Mister Montgomery’s treatment. If you have any questions about the procedure, I’d be happy to answer them, or you can give my superior a ring.” She pulled the card from her pocket calmly, holding it out to the duo with a slight embarrassed look, “Unfortunately, you’ll need to write the number down if you choose to use it, that is actually my last card.”

“I don’t mind, I’d rather be upfront about asking you,” the woman nodded, squeezing her husband’s hands in reassurance when he’d nodded his head, and added on, “I’d rather talk to the doc putting a knife to me over some person at a desk.”

“I can assure you, you will feel no pain,” she smiled, giving him a wink, “That’s what the sedatives are for.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Okay, I’ll bite, how the Hell did you do that-?” Sam shut his door with a loud click as CJ skirted her way around the car, making a beeline for the trunk and tapping it impatiently when Dean took his time to walk around and open it. She looked up to him in surprise, as if she had just realized he’d been talking, raising an eyebrow calmly as she gave him an unsure smile, “I’m sorry, what?”

“How did you get those people to agree with you so quickly?” Dean asked in Sam’s stead when the taller male had merely stared at her in disbelief, unable to comprehend how easily they had just skirted a possible murder. “Hunters go through so much shit in these situations, sometimes people even end up dying-.. You didn’t even give them a chance to tell you no. Not to mention how you handled Travis earlier, he was bursting mad, but he wasn’t storming after you.”

“It’s because I’m not a hunter,” her explanation drew near identical bitch faces of confusion, and she dramatically rolled her eyes, lugging her bag of witchcraft out of the trunk and closing it gently before moving to go into the motel, “Hunters are hardened, by the job and the loss, and don’t always have the softest approach with scared, confused people. They often bark when they need to nuzzle and bite when they need to pat. Like a stray dog. With rabies.”

“Mental image, check,” Dean muttered, closing his eyes with a shake of his head as they continued to follow her fast-pacing walk to the room, “And you two can handle Travis on your own. I’m not going to get involved with him at all unless he makes me. I laid out my ground rules, if he doesn’t agree with them, he can either hit the curb, or face my wrath.” She finished with a dignified snort, practically skipping the rest of the way before she called over her shoulder, “Dibs on showering first-!”

“But what about the-”

The door shut, and Sam slowly lowered his outstretched hand of protest, “..plan.”

“I hate to say it,” Dean scoffed, loosening his tie dramatically and shucking off his coat with stiff shoulders, “But I think she’s got this one..”

“She’s not a hunter Dean, she said so herself,” Sam protested quickly, his eyebrows furrowed in obvious concern as he perched on the corner of the bed he had claimed. “I don’t want to walk into this blind like we did with the Witnesses.. I want to help..”

“We are helping,” Dean scoffed, giving him a frown when Sam only looked confused, “We’re  _ trusting _ her.. That’s helping enough..”

Sam flinched at his brother’s tone, lowering his head briefly and rubbing a hand over his jaw at the phantom pain of the punches he’d received. Well, he and CJ.. Speaking off..

“Isn’t it.. Weird?” he asked quietly, drawing his attention from his brother was was now down to boxers, his button up, the loose tie and his socks while he rummaged around in his bag. Dean shot him a sharp look, eyebrows raised high, and Sam knew he needed to be more descriptive as he bit back a roll of his own sunflower-patterned orbs and tried again, “I mean, it's weird how CJ feels our injuries, right? Are we.. are we ever going to sit down to talk about that..? I don’t feel any pain when she hurts herself on accident- she ran into a door a couple days ago and almost knocked herself unconscious. I didn’t feel a thing, but when I stubbed my toe on the end table, she.. Kind of, yelped, and hopped on one foot. She was pretty annoyed.”

“We don’t know what the Hell it is,” Dean reminded him quietly, taking a seat on the opposite bed, shooting the bathroom a wary look before he continued, his eyebrows furrowed and a deep frown set on his face, “All we know is that when we hurt,  _ she hurts _ .. Man, she  _ felt _ those hellhounds  _ tearing  _ into her body that night.. And who knows how many times she’s ignored the fact that we broke our  _ necks  _ on a daily basis before we met her..”

“Literally,” Sam flinched, echoes of Tuesdays and the song he would never again tolerate pounding through his head, “Do you think we can do anything about that?”

“We could ask Cas,” Dean offered a few moments later, shaking his head with a huff of frustration through his nose, “Whenever he decides to pop in again, then we’ll ask him.”

The door opened with a burst of steam, and the female rushed out in a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of large white and blue striped men’s boxers. There was a towel wrapped around her hair and knotted at the back, keeping it up and out of her face as she hurried to get to the bag at the foot of Sam’s bed where she’d left it and hurried to open it up. “The shower’s open. All I have to do is make sure I have everything, I triple checked, then triple checked again back at Bobby’s, but I can’t be  _ too _ sure..”

“Hey, seriously, what’s up with the fuzzy socks and the short shorts?” Dean scoffed, a laugh on his lips as he looked at the over-the knee, black knit socks with little pom poms hanging from the outer sides on each, bouncing with every step she took. “You know you wouldn’t be cold if you wore  _ pants _ , right?” “As if you don’t like the view,” she scoffed outright, but her grin was sly, and she returned to her task with ease. “I’m just glad we can blame any lingering spell smells in the room on aromatic therapy. Eight spells is a little overkill, but I don’t want to take  _ any _ chances with him.”

“You knew his wife had a bun in the oven?” Dean asked calmly, ignoring the way she pointedly looked in the opposite direction when she’d finally taken notice that he was pantsless and practically Tom Cruise style. “It was briefly mentioned,” she shrugged, holding up the organized bundles of little ziplock baggies divided by larger ziplock baggies. There were several separate bowls in there, along with a large box of biodegradable matches. She’d gotten a look from Dean when she’d bought them, but Sam had given her a slight smile when she’d shown him, as well.

“....Travis also died..”

Dean’s hand hovered above the bag, fingers twitching over a well-worn t-shirt as he turned to look at the woman now pointely tetrissing her items. 

“CJ..”

“He died, in the original vision,” CJ was reluctant, but allowed the brothers to see, from an angle, on Dean’s part, considering his undress, how uncomfortable she was with the topic. “You want honesty, I’m being honest. What I saw, Travis goes to confront them after Sam tries to offer up a solution of life long raw beef, he winds up at the house while the guy is at work, ties up the woman. She says she’s pregnant, he gets mad because he knows its a bloodline gene, Jack comes back to the house and hulks out when he sees his wife tied up and Travis provokes him. Jack eats him, you guys show up a while later, Jack has already freed his wife, who immediately fled, leaving with the baby, which you never find out about, and you end up torching him after he breaks down over eating a human being, even if he was protecting his wife.”

She fell silent after her explanation, chancing a glance toward Sam when she managed to inch her head up, taken aback immediately at the wide, puppy-like eyes that stared straight into her soul. She almost wanted to gag.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded, letting out a slow sigh, shaking his head, “Our team dynamic is screwed right now, I’ll be the first to admit that, but until it’s fixed, we’re going to be keeping a close eye on how we run things. Thank you, CJ,” he addressed the girl calmly, and she looked over at him without a thought before slapping her hands over her eyes, and remaining still, “-for telling us. And, despite you  _ clearly  _ not liking Travis, I appreciate you trying to save him. Now are we good? Does anyone else have anything they want to get off their chest? Share with the class? Questions, concerns?”

“Please put some pants on.”

Sam snorted at the blunt request the female had given, disguising his laughter with a series of small coughs, and avidly ignoring the way his brother blinked widely at her, glanced down, then rushed to snatch his pants from the bag and hurry to the bathroom. “Dammit, CJ, bury the lead why don’t you?”

“You make a cute Tom Cruise, though-!” her call was answered with a brief bark of laughter, and Sam slowly shook his head at the way the two were acting. She and Dean were close, now, or closer than they were a few days ago. He recalled exactly how she had clung to him in the backseat of the car, as well as the way she had been ignoring him when he’d stare. Often, before, she would meet his stare head on with a challenging lift of her eyebrows.

Now she merely joked around with his brother and read every other free moment. She didn’t look nearly inclined to start a conversation with him as she did with Dean, and that was something he knew he needed to fix. So while his brother was doing his routine, he peeled off his coat, tie and shirt, palming at a plain tee and almost frowning in confusion when she didn’t so much as glance at him. He wasn’t overly confident in his body, but he had a pretty good idea of what woman looked for in their quest for a wild night, sometimes morning.

“I have a question,” he asked calmly, catching her look of surprise when she’d looked over, doing an immediate double take at his broad, naked chest, before returning her eyes to her book, still wide with surprise and a stern pinch of her mouth that made her tiny nose crinkle just a bit. “What is it?”

“I still don’t know a lot about you..” Sam admit after a moment, watching her shoulders tense up marginally before she rolled them, and forced them to relax, leveling him with a cool look from the corner of her eye when he didn’t continue, most likely waiting for him to put on a shirt.

He’d wait, seeing the blush on her face was an admittedly, vindictive guilty pleasure he never knew he loved to indulge in.

“Yeah?” she raised an eyebrow, turning the page of her book calmly.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked curiously. From the way she had abruptly tensed at the question, he mentally cursed himself.

“One older, one younger,” she answered calmly, trailing her eyes unseeing down the page as she let her thoughts wander, “Anything else?”

“Could you tell me about your family?” Sam asked politely. He knew it was the wrong question to ask when she’d snapped the book shut and gave a single, loud laugh.

“My older brother’s name is Reeses and my little sister’s name is Skittles. Do you _ want _ to continue this line of conversation?”

Sam blinked silently at the woman now looking him clear in the eye, ignoring his half-nakedness and sitting with her book help up almost mockingly. “Any other questions I can answer for you, Lucky? I’m in a generous mood tonight.”

Her eyebrows raised in challenge, Sam sat down on the bed, stretching back a bit against the headboard as he examined her gleaming eyes. She was being fiery again. Was she nervous or honestly willing to banter?

Dean could tell almost immediately with CJ, but it was still a bit difficult for Sam.

“What’s your favorite music genre?” he asked calmly.

“Opera.”

The answer surprised him, more than it should have, and he raised an eyebrow at her prompting smile. “And you? I’m guessing.. Dark-religious rock..? But you don’t want to tell Dean..”

The edge of his mouth twitched at the guilty pleasure she’d named, offering her a miffed smile when she relaxed into her chair again. “Alright, you got that right.. Ahm.. what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Rainbow Sherbet,” she grinned, a light much unlike the teasing one it had been before brightening her features, she seemed honestly excited at that question, her eyes wide and her smile opened as she hugged the book tightly to her chest, “It’s wonderful that I can finally eat it. I used to be allergic to fruit before I got sent back in time.. It's absolutely amazing what one simple food group can do to change a diet.”

“You used to be allergic to fruit?” he was honestly puzzled by that, wondering how something like that would be possible, but the sudden, childish glow she was giving seemed almost infectious, and she started to ramble, “I mean, yeah, whenever I would eat fruit my lips would itch and so would my mouth and throat, like the fruit would be a sort of pure acid- but after I went back in time its like I can suddenly have all of these yummy things like applesauce and strawberry cheesecake and rainbow sherbet and it’s just a wonderful, wonderful thing, really.”

She blinked up at him then, the absolute innocence in her expression practically stabbing him. He almost felt guilty about his plan to get answers.

_ Almost _ .

“Tell me something about yourself,” he prompted, waving her to do so when she only looked confused, “It could be anything, I just.. Want to know more..”

“Well, you  _ are  _ the brother more inclined to be anal about topics,” she scoffed quietly, ignoring the way his eyebrows shot to his hairline as she rolled her eyes up, trying to think. Slowly, a soft, gentle smile settled on her lips, and her eyes fell shut when she sighed. “Part of my plan, my big plan, that you boys are so concerned about..” He sat up straight as she said this, eyes hard when she kept herself curled up on the arm of the chair, nearly blushing to herself as she smiled sweetly toward her thoughts, “I want to adopt several boys.. I also want to bless Dean’s marriage, and eventually yours.. Also..” she trailed off quietly for a moment, missing the look of confusion on Sam’s face when she’d tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, “I want to punch God in the face, shake hands with his sister, hug, really, and.. And I suppose I want one other thing...”

“And what is that?” he asked calmly, he was reeling from her exclamation for wanting to punch god, glancing anxiously out the window briefly to wonder if lightning would strike her for the words.

“Well, I can’t tell you all my secrets, Lucky,” she laughed then, open and happy, and he felt a bitter sort of twist in his stomach when she offered him a grin, “That would just make me boring, wouldn’t it?”

The door opened, and Dean exit his room in a pair of sweatpants and a black wife beater, his necklace hanging loyalty between his pectorals and offering a smirk toward CJ when she tossed him a bag of peanut butter M&Ms over her shoulder to him without looking. 

“Thanks CJ.”

“No problem, Cowboy.”

Sam took a hold of his nightclothes calmly, eyebrows furrowing a he tilted his head, and rolled his shoulders at the idea. “We need to give you a nickname.”

“Hm?” she perked up at that line, sliding her eyes over to him in question, but looking overall unaffected by him being half-naked anymore. He wouldn’t take that to heart.. Much.. 

“You have nicknames for us,” Sam pointed out calmly, waving his hand in an almost dismissive manner as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying to think of something fitting. “It’s only fair we give you one, too.”

“CJ  _ is  _ my nickname,” she raised an eyebrow in surprise, glancing between the brothers when their eyebrows rocked up in confusion. “What, you thought I had nice parents? My older brother’s name is Reeses and my little sister’s name is Skittles. You’d think I’d be lucky enough to get called CJ?”

“What’s your full name?” Dean asked, snorting a bit as he tried to guess. Nothing seemed to really fit..

“Crackerjacks Ambrosia Jordan.”

Dean burst out laughing at the ridiculous name, Sam chuckling along with them, though it gradually, then awkwardly died when they noticed the bitch face she was silently shooting them.

“Wait,  _ Crackerjacks _ .. Like the baseball song?” Dean clarified slowly.

Her silence was the only answer as she gave them a blank stare, and turned back to her book on the table, “Call me anything other than CJ and I will beat the crap out of you. I don’t care if I hurt myself in the process.”

“Okay..” Sam agreed after a few seconds, the brothers sharing a long, surprised look before moving to finish their routines. Sam moved to go take a shower and Dean kicked up onto the bed and reached for the remote. 


	22. Chapter 22

The next day was a matter of gathering the things together and getting to the Montgomery house. They’d set up the room after closing the windows and blinds, making sure the fans were off and that he was in clothes comfortable enough to be slept in. Mrs Montgomery would be spending the day either keeping herself busy outside of the house, or downstairs. 

The spells, after eight continuous hours of work, were done successfully, and CJ had left the room tired and panting in disgust at the residue of herbs and sweat she’d concocted in the airless room. Sam had informed Mrs Montgomery that she would need to call the number they gave her  _ immediately _ after the baby had been brought home. They would need to perform a similar ritual, minus sedatives so that Jack couldn’t see or hear the actual spell work. They wouldn’t have to worry about it with a baby.

By the time that CJ had returned to the room, showered, and dressed, she’d plopped herself onto Dean’s bed in his absence, legs stretched out and fuzzy blue socks waving as she flicked through channels and finally settled on Dr Sexy, MD. 

It was awful

And she loved it.

She couldn’t wait to meet Gabriel and hug him and love him and play with his long doctor sleevies..

….Maybe she had a  _ small  _ problem….

Brushing off the thought, she settled in for a night of quiet, looking up in surprise when Sam came back first, two six packs of beer in hand, looking over to her in surprise as she waved, eyes staying riveted to the screen. “Hey, Lucky.”

“Hey, CJ,” he hummed, smiling a little when he’d passed in front of the TV and she’d made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat, it almost sounded like a whine. “ _ Saaammm _ ~”

A shudder spiraled from his knees to his spine, and he chanced a look over his shoulder to see her watching the TV with a focus almost predatory. “Until Dean gets back I have control over the TV. No way am I missing a second of this terrible train crash..”

“If it’s so bad why do you watch it?” he asked curiously, setting the carrying boxes on the table and sliding the actual beers into the mini fridge. He pulled one out for himself, another for CJ and walking over and plopping onto Dean’s bed directly beside her, nearly throwing her in the air with the sudden shift and holding out the beer while she fumbled to regain her balance. She’d glared at his innocent smile, but still took it, and uncapped it with a twist and took a generous sip before returning her eyes to the screen. “You could learn something, Lucky. Pay attention to the medical jargon, if you would, never know when you might need it.”

“But it’s a drama, and fake,” he pointed out calmly, eyebrows furrowing when she shook her head, using the hand that held her beer to point at the fairly attractive male with wavy black hair and a goatee performing surgery on an unconscious woman’s chest. “It’s impractical, actually, to place unrealistic medical jargon in the media. Minus the drama, this is actually a very informative show.”

“Really,” he hummed, blinking slowly while he glanced from the television to the woman stretched out beside him, taking a sip of his beer before he decided to talk again. “So.. how do you like hunting, so far..?”

“Aside from the crazy schedules, greasy food, alcohol and never ending stream of weird, I think it’s safe to say I’m doing fan-fucking-tastic for not being a hunter.”

“You’re doing great, as far as I can tell,” he shrugged a little when she’d shot him a ‘really’ look, rolling her eyes again and returning to her program. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, the lowered tone of her voice seeming incredibly important when she’d glanced at the doorway, most likely wary of Dean suddenly barging in. He sat up straighter when she bit her lip, rolling it between her teeth before tracing the rim of her beer bottle with her pointer finger, “Do you.. Do you  _ really _ trust Ruby..? Because.. I’ve.. I’ve seen you kill Lilith..” The news was like a fluttering bomb had gone off in his chest, though her next words tapered it, the mere fact that he wasn’t going to fail in his mission made him want to jump to his feet and dance. Maybe give a spontaneous kiss or two. You never knew..

“But.. but after.. It’s.. it’s not pretty..”

“But Lilith is dead,” Sam pointed out quietly. He was buzzing now, fingers flexing as he tried to piece together exactly  _ when  _ this might happen. “Isn’t that enough for a celebration?”

“Maybe..” she murmured, but her eyes had gotten the far-away look she’d get when she was close to dozing off. However, she sat up straight, then, and shook herself out roughly, looking up at him to see his towering form directly beside her, almost enclosing her against the headboard with his monstrous height. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll wind up where you want to be. I’m not going to stop you, because I know you won’t let  _ anything _ stop you. Not your brother, not the angels.  _ Nothing _ . And I’m not dumb enough to put my neck on the line for that when I know for a fact you could plow through me like mud and do what you wanted anyway.” Her words trailed off into silence, broken only by the frantic sounds of hospital staff from the TV. Sam studied her eyes and face for several long, tense moments as they kept their stare-down. Searching for any sort of lie or half-truth in her claims, and finding absolutely no doubt in the fact that he would go through her if he needed to to kill the demon woman. Absently he knew that that was wrong, but his burning hate and anger for that demonic bitch was enough to override that common sense.

Certainly seemed enough, now, as well. Here was his ticket to getting to Lilith faster, knowing her moves and her tricks. Being beyond prepared for anything the scum of the earth would throw at him. And there she sat beside him, having broken their contest to look back at the show with a heavy gulp of beer and a blank expression. 

The door opened, and he sat up straight, surprised at how far he had actually loomed over the petite woman and looking up with a start when Dean had burst through the door, the bag of burgers fisted carelessly in his hands as he hurried to stand in front of the TV, he clicked it over, rapidly between the channels, and CJ sat up, Sam speaking for both of them when he demanded to know what was wrong.

Dean stopped after a second, and Sam could see the headline before CJ managed to peer around the eldest hunter.

_ WOMAN STABBED AND LEFT IN BURNING HOME. _

CJ’s blood ran cold, her blood rushing to her ears as she vaguely heard Sam’s protesting. Something about where the Hell Travis was.

“ _..where the woman was found stabbed in her stomach, hanging out of her bedroom window.” A helicopter view of the burning house was shown, where firefighters were working to put down the raging flames. “Reports say she had been eating dinner at home with her husband when the attacker had come. The armed attacker had thrown an explosive at the table where the husband sat, killing him and starting a raging fire. The woman had managed to run upstairs before she was targeted and stabbed in the stomach. Barely lucid, but still functioning, the woman had lunged for her attacker and shoved him down the stairs, breaking his neck. As of now, this brave woman is being treated for her wounds, but the severity of the damage is showing little to no signs of recovery-” _

The TV turned off with a click, and CJ let the bottle slowly set on the nightstand. Sam swung his eyes to her sharply, watching as she stared blankly at the dark screen for several more seconds before turning and standing up. 

“CJ-” Dean’s voice cut into the room’s silence, his voice hoarse, but the woman didn’t even acknowledge him as she walked over to her bag and began pulling out her M&Ms. She tore open two packets at a time, eating several large, heavy handfuls before she sat down in the chair and put her head in her hands.

“CJ,” Dean tried again quietly. “Did this happen in..?”

“I think I need to go to Bobby’s for a while..”

The boys felt a simultaneous pang in the gut at her words, Dean’s mouth running dry as he shot his eyes from Sam to the girl curled up at the table. ‘Help me,’ he mouthed sharply, his brother darting his eyes in a similar fashion between the elder Winchester and the girl he’d nearly been spooning not three minutes ago.

Dean swallowed, biting his lip sharply as he inhaled, and nodded, moving to stand a bit closer to the table, but still a good distance away. “Do you want to wait until the morning, or..?”

“Whenever you feel up to driving,” she answered instead. She stood up again and swiped her blanket from her bag, curling up against the chair in the corner and tucking herself into a tight ball beneath the thick maroon wool. Dean swallowed thickly at sight of the woman practically leading them around on a soap box now curled up and silent in her chair, not even comfortable enough to spread out in her usual sprawl and preferring to lie beneath the stuffy thread count and possibly suffocate.

Dean motioned with his hand toward the bag of burgers with half hearted care as he plopped onto his bed, his elbows hitting his knees as he shoved his face in his hands. CJ hadn’t seen that. That much was obvious.

Sam didn’t know what to think, it felt like the issue with Yellow Eye’s special children all over again, trying to prevent the deaths and being just a second too late.

He didn’t bother to touch the burger that Dean had gotten him, instead choosing to wash his face and head straight to bed. Travis was dead, and the work they had done that day had been unravelled in a matter of five hours..

Dean seemed to have the same idea, and when the light flickered out, and everyone had taken a moment to look back on the last few hours, they wondered, in near perfect precision, what exactly would come of this, tomorrow.


	23. Chapter 23

Jack and Michelle..

Jack and Michelle and an unborn baby..

_ Jack and Michelle and an unborn baby.. _

She murdered three people with her mistakes..

Three..

Three..

_ Why did she always hate that number so much.. _

_ She hated it even more now.. _

Three people

_ Three people.. _

CJ lied curled up in the back of the Impala beneath her big maroon blacket, a pair of headphones over her ears blasted so loud Dean could hear it over the rumble of the wheels on the road and mullet rock. Sam sat in the passenger side, his face stony as he pieced together the full story. What would have happened. What had happened. CJ was in so much pain, they both could see it.

It was the first time she’d taken charge, and the first time she’d lost a hunt. Lost lives...

She wasn’t likely to ever forget about this.

“Sam, I wanna tell you I’m sorry. I’ve been kinda hard on you lately..” Dean’s voice cut through his muddled thoughts, and he looked over to see his brother palming the steering wheel in silence, fingers drumming on the leather. It was mid-afternoon and they would be back at Bobby’s in just a few hours. 

“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” he breathed, mindful of the woman in a dead sleep behind them. Even if she had headphones, he didn’t want to risk it. Dean, however, knew he needed to get this crap out of the air before they reached Bobby’s, for his own sake, as well as for his brother’s and CJ’s. “It’s just that your uh- your psychic thing.. It scares the crap out of me..”

“Look if it’s all the same,” Sam really did not need this right now. Maybe in a day, when he could wrap his head around the fact that there was so much going on, so much they could all lose, then he wouldn’t, but for now. “I’d really rather not talk about it..”

Dean scoffed, almost playfully, though the intent of mending that brotherly bond was still plain to see. “What? You don’t want to talk?  _ You _ ?”

“There’s nothing more to say,” Sam insisted quietly, his tone more firm as he nursed the pounding of his headache with a press of fingers to his temple, “I can’t keep explaining myself to you. I can’t  _ make you _ understand.”

“Well why don’t you try?” Dean insisted.

“I can’t,” Sam stated firmly, and in was in that moment that Dean saw a glimmer of the hopelessness in his brothers broken eyes, “Because this thing, this blood.. It’s not  _ in _ you, the way it’s  _ in _ me.. It’s just something I’ve got to deal with..”

“Not alone.”

Dean’s answer had given the taller brunette pause, and he chanced a glance at his brother before flicking his eyes back to the woman behind them

He swung his eyes forward again with a deep, heavy sigh. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. These powers..” His voice was breathy, and quiet, and the begrudging acceptance of his tone was laced with his own self-loathing and disappointment. “It’s playing with fire. I’m done with them.”

Dean swung his gaze from the road to look at his brother with disbelief, his brother continuing calmly, while he looked out over the empty, rolling field of picked crops. “I’m done with everything.”

“Really,” Dean murmured, looking briefly to the road to be certain he was driving straight before returning his eyes to his brother, the absolute relief that coursed through his body leaving him in a smooth, short breath. “Well that’s a relief. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m not doing it for you,” Sam scoffed, swinging his eyes from the window to the road with a grunt, “Or for the angels, or for anybody. This is my choice.”


	24. Monsters Lie

They spent a good few days resting at Bobby’s but soon enough duty had called to the Winchester brothers again. Knowing from the date which case it was, CJ had resigned herself to immediate silence. She had hardly spoke, other than quiet questions she would ask Bobby about certain monsters or lore, or asking if the boys wanted seconds in food or their clothes cleaned.

Frankly, it was driving Dean nuts, and Sam was faring no better. Probably because they held a similar feeling toward what they had experienced. Though he was more pointed in giving her the space he needed when it had happened to him, Dean had tried, several times, asking if she wanted to go on a simple salt and burn an hour out, or if she wanted to work on her car with him. 

When she wasn’t being hounded by Dean, stared at by Sam, or in a quiet conversation with a sympathetic Bobby, she was perched on the highest tower of cars in the yard, a wicker basket at her side filled with string, yarn, fabric and needles, while she sewed bags and painted talismans, anything small and crafty to keep her busy.

Seeing as she’d made more than a fair share of crystal bags in the few days, Bobby had taken to asking if she wanted to make it a business. If she sold the crystal and energy bags to hunters, and they worked as well as hex bags, they’d be a lot more reliable and trusting, not to mention she would have more cash than she did. Her excuse, when the brothers had noticed her never-dimming wallet of money, was merely to point at the computer.

Who knew you could get paid rather big bills to give out criminal secrets after hacking into encrypted files? She made good money on her information for Osama Bin Laden. Not to mention all those other terrorist and criminal activists she’d read about over the years.

Not that she wasn’t already knee-deep in trouble, what’s a little extra mulah for a hunter? 

Hacking kept her occupied throughout the night hours, and sewing, cooking, cleaning and washing took hold of the day. She slept very rarely, knowing that the next case was coming, and every time both of the boys left it turned her into an emotionally stunted robot.

Bobby had put his foot down on the second of October, saying that the next hunt the boys would go on, she was packing in with them. Dishes be damned.

It was the third of October on the night they’d driven to Pennsylvania over a weird murder. Sam had said the case was thin, with cheesy headlines, but when he’d mentioned Oktoberfest Dean was gung-ho and ready to roll.

CJ sat curled up in the backseat with a big book and a reading light, music playing gently in her ears over the obnoxious tempering coming from the radio. She knew the episode was entirely black and white, and that the shapeshifter would be in plain sight. She just had to make sure she didn’t fuck anything else up..

She heard the radio click off, along with Dean’s complaint, and she shut off her ipod with a tap. Settling the bright purple eyesores around her neck, she clicked off the reading light and sat up to face the brothers, ignoring Sam’s surprise in her shift and relaxing into the central seat.

Sam went back to looking at the map in his hands, his mini flashlight illuminating the space so he could read. Dean, seeing Sam’s expression, reached over to nudge his shoulder playfully. “Come on, man. Jobs don’t get much sweeter than this, you know? Dead vic with a gnawed on neck, body drained of blood.  _ And  _ a witness who swears up and down that it was a vampire.”

CJ let out a snort, and she relaxed into her seat, glaring coldly toward the door beside her with a frown that was almost physically painful for the Winchester to look at. Letting out a sigh, the elder brother rolled his eyes, looking toward his brother when the taller male nodded along almost tiredly. “No, I agree, it’s a Hell of a case.” The thunder outside crackled menacingly, and CJ crumbled down to lie in a ball, tugging her blanket from her bag and curling up under it when she’d closed her eyes.

“A little more gusto, please,” Dean requested playful, gesturing dramatically toward his brother in expectation.

“It’s just..” Sam huffed, lowering the paper as he searched for the words, “.. the  _ world  _ is coming to an end. Things are a little complicated.”

“Well we can’t save the world,” Dean denied calmly, “Not today anyway, but what we can do.. Is chop off some vamp heads. Come on, man, it’s like the good-old days.. Honest-to-goodness monster hunt..” Dean shook his head slowly when his brother rolled his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips as he reminisced on those old days. “It’s about time the Winchesters got back to tackling… to a straightforward, black-and-white case.”

A clap of thunder punctuated his words, and CJ curled deeper into her small, magical cocoon of darkness. If she hid there long enough, she would lose track of time.

_ Jack, Michelle and an unborn baby. _

_ Three people dead. _

* * *

Brass horns played loudly and cheerfully for the large, bustling crowd. Sam, Dean and CJ stood clad in their suits and ties, the shorter female holding a sketchbook in one arm and adjusting her tie with the other. Once her art skills had been discovered, she’d been put on facial recognition duty. Portraits and symbols given by witnesses so they had more to work with.

The colors were bright and everyone was either drunk, grinning or both. It was a tourist trap if she’d ever seen one.

“We still gotta see the new Raiders movie,” Dean reminded his brother as they passed the tall brick awning to an old town courtyard.

“Saw it.” Sam shot back, not impressed.

Dean, however, looked insulted. “Without me?”

“You were in Hell,” Sam shrugged, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“It’s no excuse,” Dean gave him a look a parent would give when scolding a child. Reaching up, CJ pat his shoulder in mock comfort, giving him a brief flash of a smile, “I’ll go with you Cowboy, unlike Lucky over there, I’ve never seen it.”

“Pretzels-! Pretzels-!” Dean looked up like a perking puppy, and CJ couldn’t help the quiet chuckle she gave at the sight of Dean’s eyes lighting up. “Big Pretzels.” He took off after patting CJ’s hand twice in a gentle sort of way, before walking over like the Fed he pretended to be. Sam grinned widely at the sight of his brother karting three ginormous pretzels in his hands, taking one as he walked over with CJ right behind him. She wasn’t really smiling, but she looked a lot more relaxed, now. 

“Thank you,” he nodded, watching his brother take a monstrous bite, both CJ and himself staring in awe as he managed such a feat before turning to their own treats. “Thanks, Cowboy,” she nodded toward him softly. He flashed her a smile, the relief of her talking again a bit short lived as the clack of heels passed directly in front of them, a blonde in a Swedish dress and clogs walking past Dean and giving him a smile. “ _ Guten Tag _ .”

“ _ Guten Tag _ , yourself,” Dean murmured around his bite of pretzel, his eyes flicking from her legs up to the skirt of her dress and the layers and layers of blonde curls.

The boys shared a silent look, nodding a bit before they returned back to work mode. Sam only had to look in that direction for a few seconds before they’d spotted their target, an elderly man giving directions to a younger couple, with his sheriffs badge proudly displayed on his brown leather jacket. “Hmm. Looks like our man.”

They walked over quickly, Dean still nibbling on his pretzel and CJ just finishing hers. She’d received a startled glance from Dean when she’d licked her fingers, his eyes wide in immediate surprise as she tossed her used napkin in a trash bin they had passed. She glanced up to see his stare and gave him a small, hesitant smile, before looking away again and schooling her features.

“Sheriff Dietrich?” Sam called politely when they were in speaking distance, the man looking up in confusion at the call before looking over the trio with clear surprise. “Are you the boys..” he noticed CJ at the last second, “and girl.. From the fed?”

The boys flicked out their IDs with subtle grace, CJ merely pulling her blazer open to show the badge pinned to the inner lining. “Agents Angus, Young and Jordan.” Sam introduced calmly. “We called ahead about your, uh..  _ Problem _ ..”

“Right,” he nodded in understanding, taking a quick survey around his for listening ears, before addressing them again. “I tell you what, why don’t we talk this out away from the crowd?”

The trip to the morgue was uneventful, filled with brief comments about the festival and how much more popular it seemed to be getting each year.

When the Sheriff had carted them into the morgue and pulled out the body, CJ had taken a moment to steel herself for the disgusting chemical smells that would burn her nose, taking the handkerchief from her pocket and pressing it firmly over her lower face as he pulled back the sheet and read out the known facts.

“Marissa Wright, 26. Just up from Larkin for the fest.” He clicked his tongue, remorse on his face as he looked at the deceased woman. “Terrible. Just terrible.” He directed his words to the three stoic-looking feds with a slight shake of his head. “I mean, it’s the last thing this town needs in peak tourist season.”

“Definitely the last thing Marissa Wright needed,” Sam answered swiftly. He felt the elbow knock into his back immediately after he’d said it, the small woman flashing him a smile at the comment before turning her attention to Dean, who’d reached forward to turn the woman’s chin.

Two large punctures were placed directly over the pulse point, red and swollen against her grey, ashen skin. 

“What the hell,” Dean muttered. Sam had a similar reaction to his brother, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. CJ didn’t even bat an eye.

“Hey, you got me,” the Sheriff huffed, looking all out of sorts as he gazed at the baffling wound. “I mean, this killer is some kind of grade-A whacko, right?.. I mean, some Satan-worshipping, Anne-Rice reading, gothic psycho vampire-wannabe?”

“Everything minus the Satan-worshipping and Anne-Rice,” CJ spoke up suddenly, startling the men into silence as she kneeled beside the body and lifted the dead woman’s chin up for closer inspection. “Sir, I’m going to need a few moments alone with my colleagues, this looks like a similar case I’ve handled. The calling card is usually found in a.. Messier.. Spot the difference..”

“Sure thing,” he nodded, but before he could leave, Dean spoke up. “Sheriff, in your report you mentioned a witness?”

“Yeah, well I wished I didn’t.” he scoffed, shaking his head with his hands shoved in his pockets, “But the witness insisted. That’s Ed Brewer. Not exactly what you’d call reliable.”

“Thank you, Sir,” CJ nodded to him calmly, and he gestured with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, “I’ll be going, I’ve still got rounds to make.. You can never be to careful on this holiday..”

“Thank you for your time,” Sam nodded.

Once he’d left, leaving the three with the pale corpse, CJ smacked her hand into Dean’s thigh, which was about eye-level with her crouched form. “Hey, give me a silver knife.”

“What?” he blinked, uncertain as he watched her stare intently at the two punctures as if they would move if she looked away. “They have knives here.”

“ _ Silver _ ,” she raised her tone slightly, looking up at the two with a pointed expression, “ _ Knife _ .”

Sam stooped down after a pointed look from his brother, untucking the knife from his shoe and holding it out carefully toward the still alive female on the ground. Grasping the knife in her hand, she examined the cut of the simple, slim blade in the lights above her before bringing it to the woman’s neck. 

The second she’d lied the flat part of the knife over the wound, the two holes had let out popping sizzles, hissing until she pulled the knife away and held it out up to the men with a lazy sort of stare. “Well, you can rule  _ vampire  _ off the list.”

“What the Hell..” Dean muttered, a second time, as he stopped down to examine the wound, where steam had seemed to wake off of the inside of the punctures, though not from the actual wound itself. “It’s residue of the creature, it counteracts with the silver and sends it through the burning process. That should narrow it down for you.”

“Do you know what it is?” Dean asked calmly. She blinked at him slowly, her eyes narrowed in thought, though she only looked exhausted. “It’s.. been a while.. since I’ve had this vision..” “What  _ do  _ you remember?” Sam asked quietly, mindful of the other people in the building as they closed the containment unit again after righting the sheet. “Any details at all will help.”

She stopped them in the hallway immediately after he’d said it, the corridor completely deserted, and gave them the most flat-out bitch face she’d ever pulled off. “I remember a shifter, a cheap vampire costume, a dungeon, lipstick, and Dean in lederhosen. That’s about it.”

“Lederhosen-?” Dean repeated immediately, his brother shooting him a look, which he shot right back sternly, before returning his attention to her in irritated confusion, “Like.. like the gimpy green shorts and- and the  _ suspenders _ , lederhosen.”

“Complete with buttons and straps,” she nodded sagely. She almost cracked a smile at the expression on Sam’s face. As if this hunt had gone from confusing and annoying to entirely worth the sucky drive there. “Don’t you even  _ dare _ , Sam,” his brother, noticing the look, gave him a frown before shaking his head turning on his heel, “I need a drink.. Let’s find this witness and grill him.”

Sam and CJ shared a small, silent chuckle when his back was turned, CJ’s smile wider when she recalled the actual flickered memory. It really  _ had _ been awhile since she’d seen the episode. She wasn’t completely sure what was going on quite yet. Hopefully she figured it out quickly.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you have questions and suggestions, and if you do, I'd love to hear them-! Comment below and if I get the time I'll pick through and answer what I can without ruining the surprises-!

Polka music echoed brightly around the square, and the trio walked calmly toward the brewery in the dead center of it, CJ having to duck and dodge to avoid slightly buzzed, or completely hammered people from walking into her due to her dismissing height. The boys walked up calmly to the bar, and CJ let out a slow, deep breath, taking in the scent of beer, sweat, and the warm scent of bar food.

The blonde woman who had greeted Dean stood behind the counter, a rag in hand as she began wiping out the glasses. “I remember you.”

“Yeah, and I remember you..” Dean took a glance at the nametake on her chest, shooting her a cheery, flirty smile, “Jamie.” He looked her up and down in a flash, “I never forget a pretty.. Everything.”

“Oh,” she nodded her head in a mocking sort of understanding, playing along a bit until Sam stepped forward. “We’re looking for Ed Brewer.”

“What do you want with Ed?” she asked curtly, she looked amused by the well dressed men in front of her. It seemed she hadn’t noticed CJ yet. Oh well, she didn’t really care. She did, however, want a glass of that sweet smelling stuff a waitress flounced by with.

It smelled fruity and amazing.

“Well, we are, uh,” Dean and Sam pulled their badges from their pockets, flicking them out for her to see as he laid on the god-cop routine like a weathered pro, “ahem, federal agents.”

Jamie looked speechless by the information, her arms folded across her chest as she listened intently to Dean’s words while he continued. “Mr Brewer was witness to a serious crime. We just need to-”

“Wait a minute, you’re a fed?” she cut him off with clear disbelief, her smile and eyes displaying clearly that she thought they were joking. “Wow, you don’t come on like a fed.” She cleared her throat, her eyes searching the boys intently for a second as she only seemed to get more confused. “Seriously?”

“I had the same reaction when I met them, as well, don’t feel flustered,” CJ spoke up calmly, gaining the blonde’s attention immediately when she’d held out her badge as well. “HR calls ‘em Mulder and Scully more often than not.”

Dean took a moment to look at the woman’s taken-aback expression to lean forward, letting his elbow rest on the bar as he lowered his voice. “I’m a maverick, ma’am. A rebel with a badge.” Sam and CJ exchanged bitch faces directly over Dean’s back as he continued, ignoring their silent mocking while he kept the blonde’s eyes locked with his. “One thing I don’t play by? The rules.” CJ swore she could  _ hear _ his damned wink.

“And you wonder why  _ HR  _ gave you the nickname.” Sam coughed, looking away innocently when his brother shot him a look over his shoulder. CJ couldn’t hold her laugh, coughing it directly into the handkerchief from her pocket as she turned her face away.

Sam took that one as a win. Gathering himself, he waited for his brother to straighten back up, and speaking for the three of them, again. “Okay maverick.. So, where can we find Mr Brewer?”

* * *

The man sitting in front of them was out of some forties mafia film. Greased back hair, trimmed mustache, striped button shirt and wiry limbs. He almost frantically picked up the ornately decorated canister of beer that he’d ordered and took a hefty sip before setting it aside, wiping his hands down his face dramatically and gesturing emphatically toward the three people in front of him, his tone serious.

“I told the cops  _ everything _ I saw..”

Sam and Dean sat in the booth in front of him, While CJ had sprung for a chair to sit at the edge of the table, her sketchbook opened to a fresh page and a mechanical pencil in hand, waiting for her cue. “No one believes me.” He pointed his obviously buzzed hands toward the two sullen-looking brothers, his tone nearly bitter. “Why should you be any different.”

“Believe me, Mr Brewer.” Dean spoke up then, the firm, hunter-sternness building into his tone and the war behind his eyes shining, just as it did with Sam’s. “We’re different.”

“I spoke the God’s honest truth,” his voice was throaty with self-pity, and CJ closed her eyes briefly, flinching in the wake of the immediate headache, before she began sketching. “And now I’m the town joke.”

“Marissa Wright’s murder is no joke to us,” Sam cut in smoothly. CJ felt confident in the knowledge that he was a closet control freak. “And we want to hear everything, no matter how strange it may seem.”

“We have a lot of experience with strange.” Dean confirmed with a gesture of his hands, taking a brief peak over to See CJ practically tearing at the paper with her pencil, and deciding not to interrupt. The man in front of them nodded slowly, his expression unchanging as he reached out to grab the ornate tumbler of his ordered brew and took another large gulp before returning it, closing the cap with a clink and wiping his hands over his face again.

“It was just after midnight.. I’d just left here..” the boys leaned forward a bit, settling in for the story, while CJ continued to scratch mercilessly at the paper beneath her hands. “..and like I do every night, I cut through the park on the way home. At first I thought it was a.. A couple kissing… but she was…” he made a hand gesture toward the left side of his neck, and swallowed, his voice becoming choked as he recalled the exact memory. “..struggling too much.. And this man.. He was-.. Well, he was biting her neck.”

“Can you describe her assailant?” Sam asked calmly.

“Oh, he was a vampire.” The man nodded firmly, no hint of doubt at all in his body language or voice.

“Okay, right,” Dean nodded along, his tone serious, “And by that, you mean..?”

“You know, a vampire,” the man motioned with his hand in a gesture that wound it around to ‘what can you do?’. He held up his hand sharply with a quick, mock hissing, then set it back down again, looking unaffected. “Uh-huh,” Dean nodded, sucking in his bottom lip as he did so, “Yeah. So he looked like-”

“He looked like a vampire,” Ed cut him off swiftly, “With the- with the fangs, and the slicked back hair and the fancy cape, and the little medallion thingy on the ribbon..”

“What about his bone structure?” 

CJ had opened her mouth just as Dean had done, but her sharp kick under the table had cut him off. Her look was sharp, and he briefly flicked his hands up to show surrender as the buzzed man looked to her seemingly for the first time, his eyes widening almost completely out of his skull and his hands going to fixed his already mussed, slicked back hair. “Did he have high cheekbones? A round face? Did the fangs protrude from his mouth or were they hidden behind his lips?”

“Ahm- Yes, yes, and they- uh- they stuck out just a little..”

She nodded slowly, adjusting the teeth on her sketch as she looked up to him with a serious tilt of her head, “Now, was his hairline receding? Or did it have a point in the center? Often age can be determined by those lengths..”

Sam and Dean sat in absolute silence while CJ did a back and forth with a buzzed barfly about a Dracula-look-alike.

After several minutes of the odd man’s wide gestures and stuttering of details, she flipped the book, showing a 3D rendition of a man in vampire-makeup and a cheap-looking cloak and medallion. “Is this him?”

“That’s him-!” the guy nearly shouted, banging his hands on the table as he pointed accusingly toward the paper, “That’s the guy-!”

Dean plucked the book form her hands, showing Sam in the process, and they slowly trailed their eyes from the paper to her in a deadpanned bitchface. “What?” she sniffed, glaring when their expressions didn’t change and they looked back down at the detail, then back up at her, “You’re the one who put me on profiling duty. You assholes can deal with my attention to detail.”

She let the pen she’d used to detail drop to the table like a mike, and stood up to leave without another word. Dean opened his mouth, looking for the words, and when he didn’t find anything, slapped the book to Sam’s chest and muttered about getting a beer.

* * *

CJ was sitting casually at a booth-table just a ways from the bar, looking over a menu as the brothers approached. “It’s Octoberfest. Come on, brother, beer and bar wenches.”

“Pretty sure women today don’t react well to the whole wench thing,” Sam replied flippantly, glancing up immediately when CJ gave a loud snort.

“You’d be surprised.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother’s challenge, turned a calm, casual look toward Jamie, who was at the tap, filling up someone’s cup. “Hey bar wench-! Where’s that beer?”

“Coming up, good sir-!” she called back in a sweet, thinly sarcastic voice. Sam rolled his eyes back, and CJ chuckled from her seat, giving him a slight smile before elbowing Dean’s side. “The only reason I’m not crushing your foot beneath my heel is because I know you’re one of the most respectful men on the planet. Take note of that, Cowboy.”

Dean grinned at the comment, though he’d been a bit surprised by the compliment, shaking his head before he leaned toward his brother with a grin, “Dude, Oktoberfest.”

“There you go.” Jamie pulled up around just as Dean pulled back, setting a generous tumbler of beer in front of the elder Winchester, who eyed her as if she were a practiced saint by day, and other occupations at night. She turned her smile to Sam and CJ, who were tucked together on the same side. CJ looking up from her menu and giving the woman a polite smile.”What can I get you two?”

“Oh, they don’t-” Dean started to speak, but a crushing pain in his foot cut him off, followed abruptly by a grunt from the female occupant of the table, who slowly lowered her head with a mumble of Enochian and a hiss. “ _ Son of goat.. Pain..”  _ “Two beers please..” Sam asked quietly, taking a glance at the item CJ had been pointing at on the menu, “And an order of meatballs..”

“I’ll get right to that,” she nodded, giving CJ a look that bordered on concerned. “Are you alright?” She glanced at Dean, trying to make the connection between the two’s sudden pain, but only drew a blank when Dean flashed her a smile. CJ would have kicked him again if she could feel her foot.  _ Damn was she getting stronger without her know-how..? _

“Nothing at all sweetheart, just a bit of a wrestling match.”

Jamie laughed softly, but her smile was a tad smug. “You’re funny.”

Dean rolled with it, his smile all charm and sugar, “I’m a lot more than that. I’d love the chance to show you the rest. What time you get off?”

Jamie let out another laugh, this one more full and amused. “Ha-ha. Like I said, funny.”

Dean blew out a breath, watching her walk away briefly before he took a hold of his beer. “Man it is time to right some wrongs..”

“Come again?” Sam raised an eyebrow, confusion clear on his face while CJ occupied herself with a new page in the sketchbook, twirling her pencil around in little strokes and borderline ignoring them, the throbbing was gradually starting to fade. She’d just give it time. 

“Well, look at me,” Dean extended his arms wide for his brother to see, his eyes lit up in wonder and a flicker of mischievous realization. “I mean I came back from the furnace without any of my old scars, right?” When Sam gave a barely acknowledging nod, he continued quickly, “No bullet wounds, knife cuts..” he ticked off his fingers with a rambling sort of reverence, “None of the off-angle fingers from all the breaks.. I mean my hide is as smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

“‘Cept for the brief burn you had,” CJ chuckled pleasantly, flashing the boys a smile when they remembered she was there before waving them off, “Ignore me, have your talk, I’m doing something important..”

Dean shook his head, taking a deep breath before letting it out in a whoosh and giving his brother a pointed look, “And all of this leads me to conclude… sadly..” he nodded his head to the side at the addition, “.. that my virginity.. is intact.”

“What?” Was the only thing Sam could immediately compute.

“I have been rehymenated,” Dean chuckled softly, pleased with his comparison. 

“Re-?” Sam repeated, huffed a laugh, and tried to hold back a louder chuckle, “Ha- Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of hell, but no one could do  _ that _ .”

“Brother,” Dean repeated breathlessly, his face set and stern with the claimed development, grinned cheekily, “I have been rehymenated. And the dude,” his voice lowered almost sensually, “will not abide.”

“Alright, dude,” Sam snorted at his brother’s straying eyes to the women walking by, “Well, you go do.. Whatever you gotta do.. And I’m gonna go back to the room and get some sleep.”

“I second that,” CJ piped in, placing down a ten as a tip and rolling her eyes, “I’ll just have to come by for meatballs later before we leave.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

“This place doesn’t even have decent cable,” CJ muttered throwing the remote to the other end of the couch before spinning into her prefered position, feet kicked into the air and her shoulders on the seat. Perfect.

“Why do you always lie like that?” Sam’s question made her jump, and she felt the hand around her ankles catch where she had nearly kicked. “For fuck‘s sake, Sam-! You and your brother are going to give me heart attack one day, I swear-!” Sam gave a snort, shaking his head as he let go of one ankle, but kept hold of the other, his hand sliding down her bare foot as he caught sight of the symbols curving around in a spiral. “What are these..?”

“Enochian, angel language,” she smiled at him from her sprawled position, tilting her head a bit as she watched him lift her foot a bit higher, pointing her toes in order to give him a better view. “Specifically warding. I don’t want them knowing where I am at all times.” “You really have a problem with angels,” Sam hummed, letting go of her foot so he could hop over the back of the couch and sit in the seat beside her casually. He was in a loose pair of sweatpants and a tight grey shirt, had she been anyone else, she would have seen how pointedly he had stretched his muscles. Rather, she saw a different reason behind it, and sat up quickly with a huff.

“Jesus, Sam, if you’re back hurts, say so.”

He opened his mouth quickly, likely going to make a comment about not meaning to flex or stretch, but when her hands had started rubbing into his shoulder blades and rolling along his back he lost all coherent train of thought. “Oh-..  _ Oh _ ..”

“My grandma had a bad back,” she spoke quietly as she worked, her words almost whispers against the awful sitcom in the otherwise silent room. “I took a few masseuse classes so I could make her feel better.. She always looked forward to my messages, so I assume I’d learned something useful..” He let out a groan as a loud pop came from beneath her hand, and an almost pornagraphic moan left his lips as his head fell forward, “Oh,  _ God _ ..”

“Feel better?” she asked calmly, smiling when he only managed to hum, nodding in a drunken way as she rubbed out the last of the knots along his shoulder blades, “You seem to have a lot of tension in your back. I’d get to it, but it’s an intimate position you probably wouldn't like. Not to mention you’re freakishly tall and it would be a lot of moving around.”

“W-.. Would you mind?” his rasp was just above a whisper, but the bleary, puppy-likes eyes of the taller brunette were damned near irresistible. She let out a slow, resigned breath, shaking her head as she climbed off of the back of the couch. She caught sight of his slightly disappointed expression and snapped her fingers impatiently, pointing sternly to the bed when he’d only looked over to her in confusion. “Well, do you want a back rub or not?”

* * *

Dean had heard the noises Sam was making several feet from the motel door. He had half of an idea of what was going on, but he was inwardly praying that it wasn’t the case, or, at least, that CJ was far enough away from the room to not hear it. He hesitated at the moans, and cracks of a headboard against a wall coming from inside followed by what he could only assume was Sam’s rendition of Casa Erotica Four with what sounded like either a professional or a goddess.

Not really wanting to, but knowing he had no other options, he groaned under his breath, raising his fist and bringing it back to pound on the door-

“ _ Fuck- CJ-!!” _

Dean’s arm slowly lowered, and he blinked slowly at the wood.

Sam.. and CJ..?

Sam and  _ CJ _ ?

Sam.

And  _ CJ _ .

_ What in the actual living Hell-? _

His fist pounded on the door with enough force to rattle the frame, his shoe tapping quickly as he waited for the steps to go to the door, a soft scrape against the center, a gun, he presumed, followed by the unclicking of a lock and the door swinging open to reveal a fully-clothed CJ. 

_ Fully clothed- what was she doing to Sam, was she--?! _

He looked taken aback by her rolled up sleeves and the sweat on her neck, but she didn’t look winded, and she merely waved him inside with a nod before closing the door behind him. He was almost ashamed at how slowly he’d walked inside, expecting thrown furniture, lots of ripped clothes..

Maybe a porno in the background..?

Instead he saw Sam face-down on his bed, hands clutching the pillows and his clothes still on, the back of his shirt was slightly rid up to his shoulders, but he was otherwise covered, unmoving as he held perfectly still, sweat visibly beading down his arms and across the back of his neck, making his hair damp. 

“What the Hell is going on?”

His question was a bit too quiet for Sam to hear, but CJ heard him all the same, and shot him a look of slight happiness. “I’m giving Sam a deep tissue massage. He was stretching out his back and it sounded awful so I’d thought I’d give him a hand. Would you like one after he’s done?”

Dean looked slowly between the rumpled bed with Sam sprawled, practically panting like a dog, on top of it all, to the completely relaxed, tiny woman at his side. “I dunno.. Are you going to make it sound like a porno?”

“What?” she seemed genuinely confused, and he internally smacked himself before he shook his head and waved a hand to dismiss the comment. “Never mind. Whatever. I’m good for tonight. Maybe another day.”

“Well, alright,” she shrugged, fixing the sleeves of her shirt once more before walking back over to the bed and climbing on top of it, he was halfway to the bathroom, ready to change into something less stiff, when he paused, and caught sight of the small brunette literally climbing atop his brother to sit on his lower back, straddling him like a horse and cracking her knuckles before leaning her weight slightly forward on his upper back, just a few inches below his shoulder blades. “Okay, take off in five. What’s the safe word?”

“Impala,” he murmured, just loud enough for Dean to hear, and he was enraptured by the sight of her nodding once with a pleased hum, before lifting herself up and slamming her weight forward onto her hands in a single, smooth maneuver. The most painful sounding pop Dean had ever heard came from his brothers spine, but from the cry of absolute euphoria in his brother’s voice, he felt like he was witnessing something a brother should not witness.

_ Holy shit.. _

Dean’s eyes were wide as she rhythmically spread and rolled her hands, then fists up and down his brothers spine in large, swooping circles and swirls, working her way to a spot just under where she’d just pressed, “Take off on four.. Three.. Two..”

_ Pop-! _

“ _ CJ- _ !”

Sam fell apart with a whimper, and he pounded restlessly into the pillows near his head with a gasping breath, “Fuck- CJ,  _ please-  _ I can’t take it anymore-  _ please _ ..  _ Impala-! Impala-Impala-! _ ” It was like watching a train crash, Dean absently thought, stuck resolutely in the doorway as he watched the back of the woman’s shirt ride up, revealing an anti possession tattoo in the form of a tramp stamp with delicate angel wings, ribbons and other small objects that made it look beyond sexy..

All of a sudden, she pushed all her weight into his muscles, and worked her weight down, flowing along every spine joint until it gave a soft pop. Sam let out a moan, and he collapsed limply on the bed, breathing heavy and his head completely soaked in sweat, hair sticking to his ears and face while the woman behind him carefully got off and adjusted his shirt. She pat his shoulder casually as she moved away, rolling her neck with a pop of her own before speaking, “Don’t be afraid to ask for a massage next time, Lucky. It felt pretty good on my end, too.”

Had Dean been drinking water or any other beverage it would have dribbled out of his mouth and onto the shaggy carpeted floor, he didn’t even seem to have the current coordination for a spit-take.

_ Note to self, keep an eye on Sam and CJ’s actions.. _

Something about the mere thought of his brother having sex with CJ was.. Well it didn’t feel  _ wrong _ , but it didn’t give him warm and fuzzies, either. 

Sam was out like a light, and CJ merely curled up in her chair, tucked under her blanket with her hair dangling toward the floor. Dean slipped into bed with a sigh, closing his eyes and hoping tomorrow would be a little less weird.

* * *

Was it opposite day or did some deity really hate Dean that much?”

“Ma’am we understand how hard this is,” The elder Winchester was sat in an ornate iron chair identical to Sam, who sat beside them while they interviewed the dark curly haired woman, who was almost robotically sipping at her XXL soda. “But can you describe the creature?”

“Oh.” She looked between the boys quickly, as if blinking from a trance, and dropped her eyes to her drink, reaching out and grabbing it with both hands to bring the straw to her lips and sip. She waited a moment before putting it down, her tone, calm, collected, and completely serious. “It was a werewolf.”

Sam licked his lips, sharing a look with his brother before returning his attention to the woman. “A werewolf?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded calmly, in innocence in her eyes that made him want to call CJ to deal with this like she dealt with the other one. Maybe she had remembered something else..

“You’re sure,” Sam just needed confirmation, but she did more than that, nodding along with his words as she added on. “Oh yeah. With the furry face, and the black nose, and the claws.. And.. and the torn up pants and shirt… Like from the old movies.”

Dean only blinked slowly at this woman as he tried to process how much  _ exactly _ a deity could hate him for this to be so screwed up..

“Um,” Sam tried to cut in, his expression confused, but Dean, hearing his brother, decided to step in with a pleasant, mask-like smile. “Well, okay, so..” He fixed his position in hsi seat, sitting straighter and with a more definitive edge to his shoulders. “Thank you for your time.”

The woman gave a small nod before reaching for her drink again and taking a long, large gulp, watching the boys stand and leave with polite nods before they walked away. CJ was in the morgue, and they would meet her there.

* * *

Hazel eyes watched intently as the silver chain laid along the mutilated flesh made soft pops and sizzles. The pale, lifeless untouched skin she pressed with pure metal gave no indication of being a shifter.

“First a Dracula, and now a full-on movie-time Wolf Man?” Dean’s voice cut into the tapping of her pen against her lip, and she looked up from the table she stood over. She was stood, embarrassingly, on a stepping stool, but by the glance of Sam knew that he hadn't noticed, more focused on the tray of remains that was directly in front of her.

“Damn,” Dean nearly flinched at the entirety of the mutilated corpse, Sam letting out a heavy breath through his mouth not to smell the disinfectant and rot. CJ had come prepared with a hospital mask and an added handkerchief tied around her face, so she was doing relatively well.

“Whatever did this wasn’t a psycho wannabe,” the taller male murmured, using the tip of his pen to pull out a stringy bit of flesh that was burning against the silver toward the ends, but overall unaffected. “Look at those bite marks. And only  _ part _ of it is reacting to silver..? It cut right down to the bone and deeper..” he sounded more awed than he probably should have, earning a scoff from his brother as CJ started to prod at different pieces to show them exactly what they needed to see.

“The heart is still here. Untouched. It can’t be a werewolf, they never leave the heart behind, so that crosses one thing off of your silver variant mutants. I remember a shifter, just not all the detail..”

“A shifter, a cheap vampire costume, a dungeon, lipstick, and Dean in lederhosen, right?” Sam repeated dutifully. Both CJ and Dean turned to him with similar eyes of shock, staring at him when he glanced away, then shrugged, “It was weird, so it was easy to remember..”

“So.. a shifter?” Dean scoffed, glancing at CJ when she gave a slow, agreeing nod, “Can they even  _ shift _ into werewolves and vampires with actual things like that-? What the Hell is going on-?!”

“Well I was hoping you folks could tell me,” the voice cut into the trio’s conversation, and CJ casually retrieved the chain from the body without the Sheriff noticing, letting it fall into a small plastic bag and shove it into her open bag at her hip. “I just got a rush job back from the lab.. On those fibers we found on the body.” He pulled the evidence bag from the folder, holding it up to sport a good amount of think, dark hair. “Canine. Wolf hairs.”

Sam and Dean shared a look of silence, and Dean shut his eyes with a grunt, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose and rubbing softly. “I’m getting a headache.”


	27. Chapter 27

Hazel eyes watched intently as the silver chain laid along the mutilated flesh made soft pops and sizzles. The pale, lifeless untouched skin she pressed with pure metal gave no indication of being a shifter.

“First a Dracula, and now a full-on movie-time Wolf Man?” Dean’s voice cut into the tapping of her pen against her lip, and she looked up from the table she stood over. She was stood, embarrassingly, on a stepping stool, but by the glance of Sam knew that he hadn't noticed, more focused on the tray of remains that was directly in front of her.

“Damn,” Dean nearly flinched at the entirety of the mutilated corpse, Sam letting out a heavy breath through his mouth not to smell the disinfectant and rot. CJ had come prepared with a hospital mask and an added handkerchief tied around her face, so she was doing relatively well.

“Whatever did this wasn’t a psycho wannabe,” the taller male murmured, using the tip of his pen to pull out a stringy bit of flesh that was burning against the silver toward the ends, but overall unaffected. “Look at those bite marks. And only  _ part _ of it is reacting to silver..? It cut right down to the bone and deeper..” he sounded more awed than he probably should have, earning a scoff from his brother as CJ started to prod at different pieces to show them exactly what they needed to see.

“The heart is still here. Untouched. It can’t be a werewolf, they never leave the heart behind, so that crosses one thing off of your silver variant mutants. I remember a shifter, just not all the detail..”

“A shifter, a cheap vampire costume, a dungeon, lipstick, and Dean in lederhosen, right?” Sam repeated dutifully. Both CJ and Dean turned to him with similar eyes of shock, staring at him when he glanced away, then shrugged, “It was weird, so it was easy to remember..”

“So.. a shifter?” Dean scoffed, glancing at CJ when she gave a slow, agreeing nod, “Can they even  _ shift _ into werewolves and vampires with actual things like that-? What the Hell is going on-?!”

“Well I was hoping you folks could tell me,” the voice cut into the trio’s conversation, and CJ casually retrieved the chain from the body without the Sheriff noticing, letting it fall into a small plastic bag and shove it into her open bag at her hip. “I just got a rush job back from the lab.. On those fibers we found on the body.” He pulled the evidence bag from the folder, holding it up to sport a good amount of think, dark hair. “Canine. Wolf hairs.”

Sam and Dean shared a look of silence, and Dean shut his eyes with a grunt, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose and rubbing softly. “I’m getting a headache.”

* * *

They returned to the bar for dinner, CJ finally getting to try the meatballs and looking up a to watch a few tourists that passed them. None of them were overly interesting, but she was more preoccupied with eating than anything else, so that might have played a part. Sam and Dean had gotten beers, while she had ordered the fruitiest thing that they had, earning a grin from Dean and a brief smile from Sam when Jamie had come back with a weirdly-shaped bowl glass with all sorts of colors, fruits, cream and a freaky straw with a small umbrella on the side.

“Hells yeah-!” she fist pumped immediately at the gorgeous drink, and took a slow, gradual sip once it was set down, giving a soft sigh of pleasure as she pushed it toward Dean. “Your turn.”

“Is it good?” he scoffed, reaching forward without a fight, much to Sam’s shock, to take a healthy swig, tilting his eyes from side to side in thought before giving a nod of surprised agreement. “Alright, that answers that.”

“Want some, Lucky?” she asked lightly, seeing his eyes dart from her, to the drink, to Dean and back again. He shook his head quickly, raising the handle of his mug of beer in excuse before bringing it to his lips. “No, no.. I’m good, thanks..”

“Your loss,” she shrugged, sipping at her drink with a hum and dipping a fry around in the wierd sauce they’d been given. She’d commandeered it from Sam when he’d pushed it aside, practically drenching her fries in the process with a smile.

The table had gone quite while Dean had brooded over the case, Sam, by association, also getting ansty with every passing second they sat in the crowded, noisy bar. Dean finally snapped a little, crumpling the napkin in his hand and tossing it on the table. “I don’t know man, it’s like we’ve stumbled onto a.. Midnight showing of Dracula meets Wolfman.. Is that it?” He took a heavy gulp of his beer, his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed, “I mean, Wolf man seems real enough, but CJ also said shifter.. Think there could be two?”

“Just one.” CJ’s input was met with two looks of surprised, but she spoke no further, returning to sip at her drink slowly and rhythmically dip her fry into the spicy, white-yellow sauce.

“CJ, do you remember anything else?” Sam prompted quietly. She slid her finger around the rim of the glass, and for the first time since Carthage, the boys actually took a look at her. Her skin was pale, and washed out, dark bags lining her eyes and a bit of bloodshot in the corners. When she was smiling, or talking, it distracted them from that, but when she was quiet, lost in thought, that glowing mask she put up was lowered just enough for them to peak through.

“CJ have you been sleeping lately?”

She flicked her eyes up to Dean, and the tiredness vanished, replaced quickly with an almost wicked smile, “You’ve seen me in bed, Cowboy, I don’t know why you’re asking.”

“You’ve been faking it, haven't you?” Sam muttered. The sharp look she’d sent him was proof enough, and the woman held her own for maybe eight more seconds before she caved, lowering her head to the table and giving a low, warning sound that was suspiciously close to a growl. 

“I  _ can’t _ sleep. It’s not an issue of being ready. I’ve seen you two solve the case, back when I’d watched it, there’s almost nothing that you’ve ever left unsolved..”

Sam had opened his mouth to say something, Dean doing the same, both for likely different reasons, but they were cut off when Jamie returned to the table with two mugs of beer and another fruity rainbow drink. “Looks like you three are staying a while..” Dean took the mug with a thankful smile, Sam doing the same as the blonde woman sighed, hands on her hips as she rocked on the balls of her feet. “I heard about Rick Deacon..”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “This case just got weird enough for ahm- our department.”

She sighed, nodding a little as she gestured to the table, “Well, drinks are on me,” she made a move to walk away, then stopped, turning to look at Dean with an honest smile, “And just so you know, I get off at midnight tonight.”

Dean, seemingly surprised by her statement, flicked his chin over to the curly haired woman at the counter behind her, “Oh it’s not another, uh, girls night out?”

Sam flicked his eyes over there, as well, confusion flickering in his gaze as he watched her press a folded napkin between her lips, marking it with dark lipstick before setting it aside.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Jamie turned back to Dean, who had seen nothing strange, meeting her eyes with suave confidence of years on the road. “Okay then. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay then,” she nodded, turning to hurry back to her job with a twist of her heel and a tall, confident stride. Dean watched her go for a second, his face going through several different motions before he turned back to Sam with an almost playful smile. “Hey, do you think this Dracula can turn into a bat?”

Sam blinked at him slowly, glancing down at CJ who was still pressed tightly against the table, hands limp on the wood and her fries gone.

“That’d be cool,” Dean muttered, reaching for his fresh glass and taking a swig, a bit of froth coating up upper lip. A creak on the seat beside him alert him to movement, and Sam watched CJ raise her head, eyes still closed as she fumbled around in her pocket before pulling out the blue handkerchief. She reached her arm back briefly before throwing it limply toward Dean, hitting him in the chest before it fell to the table, along with her head again, making the wood give a dull thump of protest.

“You are going back to the room, and you are going to get some actual sleep,” Dean pointed at her sternly, after wiping off his face, and gave a similar look towards Sam, “She needs sleep, right?”

“She does,” Sam nodded, flicking his eyes toward the woman beside him. He remembered not wanting to sleep those weeks after Jessica’s death.. “I’ll take her back to the room, what should we do about the-”

A ringing cut the younger brother off, and Sam shut his mouth abruptly at the sound of Dean’s phone. Pulling the device from his pocket, he brought it up to his ear, looking stern. “Agent Young.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes growing serious as he motioned for Sam to give him a pen. “Uh-huh, alright.. Canonsburg Museum.. Of American History.. South side of town, got it.” He clicked the pen closed, and sighed, “Yeah, thanks Sheriff.”

He closed the phone with a snap, and pulled his wallet from his coat. “Another murder. Security guard for the nightshift at the local museum.” He put down a couple bills, pausing when both boys were reminded that they were not on their own. Flicking his eyes meaningfully toward Sam, he let out a breath through his nose. “CJ, think you have the juice for a run?”

“And look at the cool mummy stuff, Hell yeah..” she sat up with a creak of her spine, flashing the boys a bright, energetic grin. Sam scowled, but kept wisely silent when Dean sighed, shook his head and ushered them out of the bar. “Just come on. We’ve got a job to do.”

* * *

CJ sat with her back to the wall as she inspected the small pail of dry ice, making odd rings of steam as she played with the rim, and relaxed.

The boys were huddled over the coffin, Sam having found a tag for a prop house in Philadelphia. 

She’d laughed a little out loud at that, but shut up when Dean had shot her a stern look, and went back to playing with the small bucket.

“This is stupid,” Sam got to his feet with an annoyed scoff. And it really was.

Almost on the dot, Dean lifted his phone from his pocket to check the time, his eyes going wide as he cursed under his breath and shot his brother a look. “ _ Jamie _ , I’m late.”

He got to his feet quickly, and sent his brother a pleading expression. “You good here with the mummy and CJ and the..” his arms waved around him wildly for a second to sum up everything that was inherently wrong with this case, “..crazy?”

“Yeah,” Sam gave him a nod, lips pressing together in slight annoyance, but still understanding, watching as his brother shook off his bad mood and turned to stride out of the crime scene.


	28. Chapter 28

“Hey,” Dean greeted calmly.

“You guys alright?” Sam asked, quickly walking to the table where the duo were sat, drinking. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, running a hand over his face as he returned to his position, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I think so..” He took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of only his brother, “Where’s CJ?”

“Back at the room. I slipped some melatonin into her coke and she crashed in, like, five minutes.” Sam made a scoffing sound of disbelief, shaking his head before he looked over the woman using his brother’s suit jacket as a security blanket. 

“I think we’ve got a better handle on this, now,” Dean told him, pulling the towel wrapped item he’d torn from the Dracula-wannabe to place it on the table. Jamie looked marginally uncomfortable, but mostly dazed.

“Really?” Sam leaned over the table with a hand on the wood, watching his brother slide it to him so he could unwrap it. Sam wrinkled his nose, but otherwise looked unaffected, much to Jamie’s shock and immediate disgust as she forced herself to look away.

“On what, the ear?” he sniffed, giving his brother a level of stare that better fit an interrogator. Dean almost grinned. “I ripped it off of Dracula’s head. Touch it.”

Sam chuckled once, thinking it was a joke, but when his brother didn’t smile, his expression fell, and he hesitantly reached out to touch the ear lobe. The squishy sensation was awful, but he knew what it was almost immediately.

“Feel familiar to you?” Dean asked knowingly.

“Just to be sure,” Sam murmured under his breath, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the silver knife. Jamie made a surprised noise in the back of her throat, scooting away a bit when he’d pulled it out, not really squealing until he’d pressed the flat side to the torn ear and sent the skin into a burning, fizzing mess. “Ew- What  _ is _ that-!”

“The skin of a shapeshifter,” Dean’s voice was quiet, but calm. He knew she was spooked, so he didn’t raise his voice or waver his tones. “Just like in St. Louis and just like Milwaukee. Course this one’s all whole new buckets of crazy.” He paused then, “Oh, and uh-” he reached into his jacket, pulling out a small item that fit neatly into his palm. “..this. I pulled it off during the fight.” Sam took the cheap, plastic medallion curiously, and Dean nodded his head, “Look at the label on the ribbon.”

Sam turned it over in his hands, both surprised, and not, to find the familiar label form the Egyptian coffin. “It’s a costume rental.”

“All three monsters,” Dean listed off calmly, “The Dracula, Wolfman, the mummy.. All the same critter. Which means we need to catch this freak, before he Creature-From-the-Black-Lagoons somebody.”

“So you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something?” Jamie asked quietly, a tiny, almost unnoticeable tremble to her voice. “And the X files are real?”

Dean hummed, a smile on his lips as they were once again hit with the classic line. “Hmm. No. The X files is a TV show. This is real.” He took a quick sip of his brandy, raising his eyebrows briefly when she’d looked at him in confusion. “Oh,” she nodded, flashing a bright, uncertain smile.

“Okay,” Sam tried, piercing the bits of the puzzle together in his mind as he went, “So the stagecraft, the costuming. It’s like he’d trying to reenact his favorite monster-movie moments. Right down to the bloody murders.”

“I wouldn't put it past him.”

The boys looked over with a start at the front door, where CJ was stood, clutching the frame with a heavy glare in her eyes, “And next time you spike my drink Lucky, I will  _ beat _ you, regardless of my state of body, after.”

“CJ, what are you doing here?” Dean got to his feet quickly, his eyebrows furrowing when she made to walk her way over, taking slow, careful steps. 

“Like I would miss seeing you in lederhosen.”

Her grin was bright, despite the exhaustion on her face, and Dean resisted the urge to slap his hands over his face and scream. Why was she so frustrating one moment and fine the next-?! “I’m not going to wear lederhosen, I have no idea what you saw to get me to that point, but it’s not going to happen.”

“I brought my camera,” she flashed another smile, but her head was bowed as she leaned against one of the booth seats for balance, “Not to mention.. You were kind of..” she trailed off her words slowly, and Sam watched as the muscles in her back unwound and relaxed.

“Far away?” Sam offered. When she’d flicked her eyes up to him in silence, he knew he’d hit the mark, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he mentally slammed his face in a door. “Right, the brain thing, distance is bad..”

“Dammit,” Dean huffed, running his hands over his face as he looked over them to glare at her in an almost sad way, “Why are you so slow on telling us this? These are things we need to know..”

“I thought Sam was staying with me. The second he drove down the road it felt like I had the other half of my ribcage missing.” “And the first half?” Sam muttered.

“Dean.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t say anything because you were getting lucky and I am not that petty. I’m looking into something to shut this freaking pull up, I’m close enough that it  _ shouldn’t _ be an issue come November, but I’m not holding my breath. You guys don’t feel it as sharply, I get that, but I’m not interrupting your case for these petty problems. I remember a little bit more of what happens, mostly a tear-jerking monologue performed by the shifter until someone eventually kills it. Mainly for the reason that Dean is strapped to Frankenstein’s table and all that. Neither of you will die, and she might be a bit shook up, but she’ll be fine not to mention-” she cut herself off abruptly, ignoring the pointed way the boys were looking at her. But she only cleared her throat, looking firmly at Dean and then looking away with a rock of her heels. “So that happens and then you two head back knowing that there’s really no such thing as a black-and-white case and self-questioning every single monster you’d ever run through or put a bullet in.”

“Okay..” Sam offered after a minute, Dean seemed to be still processing. “Let’s be smart about this.”

“Did he call you anything?” CJ asked Jamie calmly, the woman’s eyes staring at them as if the three of them were insane, but she shook her head, confusion painting her eyes. “He.. He called me Mina. Who the Hell is Mina?.”

“Mina,” Sam repeated, pieces fitting in to smooth out a bigger picture behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, moving to sit back in front of the startled woman, reaching once again for his drink, “It’s what he called Jamie. He called me Mr Harker.” “Jonathan Harker?” Sam nearly breathed out the name, all his old hobbies and embarrassing monster movie and serial killer worshipping days flickering right back up to his forefront mind, a wry smile twisting his lips, “They’re characters from the movies and the novels. Mina,” he waved his hand toward Jamie, “Dracula’s intended bride,” he gestured toward Dean then, amusement in his eyes, “Harker, the fiance that stands in the way.” He focussed his attention on Jamie then, his thoughts racing as he tried to figure everything else out at once, “Seems like he’s fixating on you. Like he’s sees you as his bride..”

“Wow,” Jamie laughed, breathlessly, and full of sarcasm as she reached for the brandy, pouring a deep, generous glass for herself, “Lucky me..”

Sam leaned back against on of the tables, working through the facts and possibilities while CJ and Dean sat on standby, watching him with blank eyes. “But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before, or been around you.”

“Jamie, has anybody strange come to town?” Dean asked calmly. “Somebody that has taken specific notice of you?”

She shook her head slowly, eyes wide as she tried to keep up with the brothers. “I don’t know, Dean.. It’s Oktoberfest. I’m a bartender. There’s lots of people, I--” She cut herself off then, a sliver of suspicion and realization playing behind her eyes. “Wait a second, there is Ed.”

“Can’t be,” CJ’s voice cut her off calmly, and the trio turned to her in surprise, “I poked him. He’s clean.”

“You  _ poked  _ him?” Sam repeated the odd phrasing, staring when Dean had waved his hand rapidly for her to explain, and she rolled her racoon-like eyes to give him a glare, “The pen I used to detail the drawing of our Mister Dracula wasn’t an art pen, it was an old, thirty-year-anniversary pure silver pen for a Mister Roland Michaelson from the National Bank of America. He bet it in a poker game and I floored his ass and knocked him off another five hundred and fifty seven dollars. I also had his watch, but I pawned that for tattoo money.”

She went quiet again, and Jamie blinked slowly at the way Dean seemed to merely accept this, turning his head back towards the blonde with convinced eyes. “Anyone else?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Would it hurt to check?” Dean swung his eyes toward CJ, watching as she reached over his shoulder to grab his cup and down the remains before setting it back and relaxing in the booth behind him. “Just to ease our minds?”

“How should I know,” she hummed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back, “I only remember bits and pieces, if you don’t recall. And I’m half-conscious on drugs and not very reliable right now.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head before he turned back to Jamie. “Tell us more about Ed.”

“Yeah, Ed Brewer, he.. He moved here about a month ago.. Lucy swears he has a crush on me. He comes in almost every night.. He doesn’t really seem like the type of guy, but..”

“Where does Ed live?” Dean asked calmly. He had faith in CJ, but until they had something substantial every stone should be turned. Jamie frowned at the question, glancing between the three with apologetic eyes. “I don’t know.. But he works at the old movie theatre..”

When Sam had glanced over to see CJ perking up a bit at the mention, but stayed rather disinterested. “I think he’s the projectionist there,” Jamie offered, sounding a bit sad and quite shook up, still.

“I’ll go,” Sam offered quickly when his brother had jerked his thumb toward the door over his shoulder, having seen the way the woman had hunched slightly over her drink again with a visible shudder.

“I’ll go, too,” CJ piped up, bursting from her seat and practically bouncing over to Sam. “Take good care of Mina, Harker.”

“Will do, CJ,” he called, but the amusement in his voice only strayed just the tiniest hint of sarcasm. “Don’t drool over the old movie stuff-! We’re still on the job-!”

“If it’s  _ Phantom of the Opera  _ that promise in null-!”

* * *

“And the promise becomes  _ null _ ~!” CJ practically cackled as she stood beside Sam, grinning up delightfully at the old-style light-box showing above the theater entrance. “Come on, Baby, we are  _ so _ coming back before we ditch town..”

“Did you just.. Call me Baby..?” Sam asked quietly, both eyebrows raised at the sheer excitement rolling off of the tiny woman beside him, “You  _ are  _ aware of what is coming out of your mouth, right? Pretty sure even  _ Dean _ would be spooked by that laughter..”

“Did I..? Probably because of the sleep deprivation thing..” she mumbled, turning her head up to look at him in confusion, before shaking her head quickly and hurrying to go up to the doors, “Time’s a wastin’ let’s check on Ed and hurry back. I want to get a picture of Dean in lederhosen for our scrapbook.”

“You are making less and less sense,” Sam caught up to her with his long strides, “And it’s probably the drugs talking, but-”

“Unlocked~” she sang, flashing him a smile before hurrying inside. Sam grunted a bit, checking to see that he had his gun loaded and off safety before following inside. The carpet was thin, and patterned cheaply, but the style of the theatre was old, but clean, kept in it’s prime, as if it were paused in the forties and left to sit.

Organ music echoed throughout the entire building, and Sam had to rush a bit to catch up to CJ, who was peaking around every corner and trailing her eyes along every detail of the lobby and stairway, posters lit up on the walls showcasing old black-and-white classics.

“CJ- don’t rush ahead. You don’t even have a gun.”

“He’s an innocent drunk who likes to play the organ, it’s not him,” she scoffed, and rolled her eyes, but was shockingly obedient when he’d caught up to her. Rather, she reached out to grasp the hem of his coat, blinking up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “ _ Please _ help me convince Dean to come here before we leave?”

“You like old theatres?” he asked quietly, his voice nearly a whisper as they drew closer to the actual theatre area, and closer to the center fo the music, “And.. apparently  _ Phantom of the Opera _ ..”

“It always makes me cry, no matter the rendition,” she sighed softly, and he jumped a bit when she’d let go of his coat to grab the door in front of him, giving him a brief warning look before she opened it and allowed him inside first.

The white screen was afront of the stage, but a light shone behind it, outlining a figure almost demonically playing a Casio. Sam felt a tug at his arm when he’d moved to go backstage, the woman behind him holding out a freshly washed chain to him expectantly. She mouthed the words slowly, to make sure he got the message. ‘Test. First. Shoot. Later.’

In hindsight, he was glad that he had.


	29. Chapter 29

Dean came to on a wooden table with what looked like thick, large iron straps holding him down. What he noticed immediately, however, had been the change in clothes he’d been wearing.

“Oh come  _ on _ ..  _ Dammit  _ CJ _.. _ why did you have to be right on this..?”

Dean shot his eyes around the room, trying to figure out where the Hell he was. But unless cold, dark, gloomy and all around filth were any spotlight locations, he was bupkis. 

“She’s beautiful, no?” An accented voice cut in to his musings, a tacilly dressed shifter in vampire skin once more stepped into the room from the stone opening, moving toward the black and white portrait on the wall of a gorgeous, black haired woman smiling in an ornate decorative, reniscience style frame. She looked alarmingly like the woman who had drugged both Jamie and himself at the bar probably not two hours ago. “Bride Number Three from the first film.” He stepped up to admire the portrait closer, his tone relaxed, but echoing something deeper, despite the cheesy-quality. “She never got the  _ acclaim _ .. that she deserved.” The shifter traced her jawline with his hand, before giving a pointed look towards Dean, as if he would understand the reason for his reverence, “Which is why I chose her shape, her form.. To  _ move  _ among the mortals, unnoticed..” Dean could only openly stare at the crazy that was this guy so tightly wrapped and bundled in a cheap, old-fashioned bow. The shifter continued, without pause, not noticing his awkward staring, or not caring enough to comment on it.

“To listen to the cricket songs of the living.” He turned to Dean fully then, a smile on his face that looked so heartfelt he’d almost could have believed this man hadn’t hurt anybody.

Almost.

“That is when I discovered my bride has been  _ reborn _ .. In this century..”

Dean had started snickering under his breath, the shifter stalking forward slowly with a brief flash of confusion with his reaction. Shaking his head as much as the awful bindings allowed, Dean continued to laugh, his voice hoarse from disuse, but still audible. “I can’t get over what a pumpkin-pie-eyed crazy son of a bitch you really are..” His amusement disappeared instantly when the shifted had stalked more firmly toward him, turning into more stern annoyance than anything else. “You’re not Dracula. You get that, right?” The shifter had stopped in front of him, then, eyes stormy as he studied the hunters expression. “Or even if you  _ are _ Dracula.. What the hell’s up with the mummy-?” He’d barely been able to bark the words before the shifter had taken a swing at his face, knocking his head painfully to the side as his voice grew dramatic.

“I. Am  _ ALL _ monsters-!”

“Life ain’t a movie, you sorry sack of--”

The shifter repeated the punch, and Dean’s head was painfully thrown back against the table, his cheek throbbing dully and his eyes swimming. Faintly, he had the thought that CJ was going to hate him after this..

“Life,” the shifter spat the word almost disdainfully, turning his body so he could pace dramatically across the floor, “Is.. Small.. meager, messy.” He turned to Dean then, expectantly, as if this were simple, common knowledge that he shouldn’t have to explain. “The movies are grand, simple, elegant. I, have chosen-” He paused to give a large, grand swish of his cape to accentuate not only the room, but his “stellar” choice in clothing, “Elegance-!”

“Yeah?” Dean scoffed, panting a little as he tried to catch his breath, “You think “elegance” is really the  _ word  _ for what you did to Marissa? Or Rick Deacon. Or  _ any  _ of the others?”

The shifter seemed psychotically unaffected by his comment.

“But of course. It is a  _ Monster Movie _ , after all.”

“You do realize what happens at the end of every monster movie?” Dean informed him calmly. The pull he was feeling was tugging at his lower rib, but it felt pressing, more so than pulling. CJ was heading in his direction. Over what distance, he wasn’t sure. But the immediate thought was comforting.

“Ah,” he nodded back, a sardonic smile on his thinned lips, “But this movie.. Is  _ mine.. _ And in it.. The  _ monster _ wins. The  _ monster _ gets the girl. And the hero, he’s.. Electrocuted..” He let out a quiet chuckle, but the grin on his face had such a genuinely eager expression, Dean felt a churn in his stomach.

_ There is absolutely no such thing as black and white, get that through your head, now. _

CJ’s voice chose that moment to echo mockingly through his head, and he pinched at the idea quickly, trying to grasp a way out of this shitty situation. The monster reached slowly or the dramatically convenient Mad-scientist switch on the wall across from Dean’s iron-barred slanted table, “And tonight, Jonathan Harker. You.. will be.. My  _ hero _ ..”

“Wait-wait, wait.” Dean protested quickly, his voice low but with a slight edge, “Heh-heh..”

He began struggling sharply, watching the monster’s curious, enraptured expression as he struggled helplessly at the firm bonds, hand inching ever so slowly closer to the top of the lever.

Just as his fingers grazed the handle, a loud, booming chime echoed throughout the home, and both men paused at the same time to look pointedly toward the stone staircase.

The shifter stopped, flashing his captive a polite, earnest smile. “Please, excuse me.” He swished his cape and rushed up the stairs, the ends flapping a bit behind him while Dean leaned his head back with a soft, relieved gasp.

* * *

“This is a stupid plan.”

“It’s the only plan we have that gives you enough time to sneak in the back door, Sam.”

“I repeat, this is a  _ stupid _ plan. How do you know he won’t attack you? If he really  _ was  _ that bartender woman, he’s seen you-!”

“Three words. Wigs Are Magic.”

“I don’t like this plan.”

“Just shut up and give me that damn hat. I waited twenty minutes in the cold for that damn pizza boy and I’m out two hundred dollars for him to keep his trap shut about it.”

“Where do you even get that kind of money?”

“I’m a hacker. I hack. It’s a thing.”

“So you hack money from other accounts?”

“No, I hack  _ information _ , from illegal industries and distribute it accordingly for a profit via government secret bank account additions.”

“...I hate this plan. You’re not a hunter. What are you supposed to do if he catches on?”

“I have a silver knife in my boot, but if all else fails, I’ll run. We’ll recon at the motel room. If I’m not there, call Castiel.”

“The angel?” Sam sounded stunned at the idea, giving her a bewildered look. “How would I call him in the first place?”

“You pray- just ask Dean to do it. He needs to get in the habit of calling Cas anyway.”

Before Sam could say another word, she’d snatched the red trucker-style hat from his hands and pulled it on over the bright, wavy blonde wig she’d pulled from her luggage. She’d donned a pair of grey contacts, and contoured her face to look leaner, older. 

Sam had taken one look after she’d done her transformation once they’d left the motel room, but hadn’t said a word until they’d settled in to wait for the pizza she assured him would be coming. He’d asked how she remembered the monster ordering a pizza, skirting around the issue until she amended she’d remembered the lederhosen scene with vivid clarity.

He’d opened his mouth to argue, but when she’d rung the doorbell, he’d hurried toward the back entrance with a grimace.

She shifted warily on her feet, gripping the pizza in front of her calmly as she trailed her eyes along the well put-together house. 

She’d rung the bell again when she’d gotten too antsy, forcing herself to take a deep breath and relax until the door had swung open, a bright, cheerful grin replacing her pressed lips as she looked in towards the man holding his elbow out high, using the cape to cover the majority of his outfit. “Good evening.”

“A good evening to you as well, sir,” she flashed him a smile, rolling her shoulders a bit as she stepped onto the stoop and held up the box politely, her voice light and friendly. “Pizza Delivery-!”

“Ah,” he lowered his arms slightly, a grateful smile on his face as he held his arms out elegantly by his sides. “You have brought a repast. Excellent.. Continue to be of such service, and your life will be spared..”

She blinked slowly at his clothes, as if looking surprised, before her eyes lit up, and a wider smile broke across her face, delight shining across her features, “Goodness, me. Has anyone ever told you you look remarkably like Bela Lugosi?”

He looked stunned, abruptly silenced when she only seemed to bounce in place a little, looking even more ecite, “Goodness, goodness-! The.. the 1931 Dracula rendition-! Has no one said anything-?”

“You.. recognize it..?” he spoke slowly, his accented words curling around his tongue in a legitimately surprised way. 

“I love the classics,” she nodded quickly, her teeth practically radiant in the porch lamp, “My favorite is the 1943 rendition of Phantom of the Opera, though Lon Chaney had been the most convincing and heartbreaking Eric Destler in all of the movies, 1925, if I’m right, minus, of course, the newest addition to the family from Mister Webber. Gerard Butler just.. Seems to have a way with music that makes my soul sing..”

She seemed to daze for a second, and he merely blinked at her slowly. “You.. enjoy Monster Movies?”

“ _ Monster _ movies?” she seemed abruptly disgusted by the statement, and he nearly reeled back at the sudden anger on her face, “Have you  _ seen  _ Frankenstein? Or read it? The only  _ Monsters _ that exist on this planet are  _ humans _ . Dracula, Wolfman, Eric, Frankenstein's creation, they’re all just people deeply hurt and searching for love. That’s why I always end up crying when I see the damsels being taken away by the bloody fops who called themselves Dukes or Viscounts. Did you know that Raoul became the biggest drunk, ruining Christine’s career and destroying any hope she had of finding love with Eric, even though she had a son with him the night before her marriage to Raoul-” she cut herself off abruptly, having actually slipped into the rant, and a bright red flush covered her face.

“I.. am  _ so  _ sorry for rambling..” he was staring intently at her, his face blank and one of his hands pressing tightly to the edge of the open door. She couldn’t tell if his face was white or not because of how pale he was. “I get kind of worked up about how misunderstood the characters in the villan role are, and they way they’re treated. I really should.. Give you your pizza.. It’ll be.. $15.50.. Sorry..” she awkwardly trailed off her words, shuffling on her feet when he blinked quickly, breaking from his daze and offering her a slow, warm smile. “Is there.. Any garlic, on that pizza?”

His accent was gone. She felt her eyebrows jump in surprise, but quickly played along, her cheeks still burning from the embarrassment. “Oh no, I’m pretty certain your request was taken seriously. If not, you’re completely liable to sue the place..” she chuckled a little, and he raised a hand, a single finger raised. “Just a moment, I have a coupon..”

“Aren’t coupons wonderful?” she mentioned idly, handing off the pizza as they traded, “It just.. I don’t think I’d be alive without coupons. They literally got me through my college years.”

“I know,” he chuckled. She waved a bit, and as she turned, he called out, one hand holding the door open while the other balanced the box. “Miss, what is your name?”

“Me?” she spun on her heel in surprise, looking up at him as if a deer had been caught in a pair of headlights. He nodded slowly, and she laughed, rocking back on her heels, “You can call me CJ.. my full name’s kind of a mouthful..”

“Well, CJ,” he called, his smile was relaxed, and the creases around his eyes seemed more tired than they were stressed, before, “Thank you, for giving me your input on.. Ridiculous stereotypes..”

“I hope you have a good night,” she called, waving politely when he’d nodded, and moved to walk back towards the Impala. Getting into her car, she drove off, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the shifter follow the car with his eyes, and shut the door when she had gone. Parking it directly out of sight, but still close to the house, she rolled her ass out of there and hurried to grab her camera. Like Hell was she going to let this opportunity to slip by.

_ Blackmail, baby. _


	30. Idle Thoughts...

I was thinking of adding another story to this account..

It's a weird idea that started to bounce around in my head.. but when it did, I just.. it didn't stop, and now I have a burrow full of plot bunnies jumping around behind my eyes every time I try to focus on something else and all these cute little scenes pop up and I start smiling for no god-damned reason and-

Yeah.

So, I'd like to hear your guy's thoughts, if you wouldn't mind. Whether you're an active user or a guest, I'd appreciate the feedback.

Okay here it goes-

Big moment-

The moment of  _truth-_

.

.

.

Transformers and Walking Dead Crossover fic.

.

.

.

Well...?

Comments are greatly encouraged. I really,  _really_ don't want to write it down if it would take time away from _ITBTWB_. _._

Thank you for reading my ridiculous note, and I hope you all have wonderful days. 

Toodles, 

Pistol.


	31. Chapter 31

Sam lowered his gun the second he had taken in the form of his brother strapped to a table. The rest of the room was clear. He was struggling, but relaxed the second his eyes had rested on his younger brother, a weak, relieved laugh leaving his lips. “Oh Thank God. Just in the nick of time.” He grunted when Sam managed to pry the first of the bars off its hinges, quickly moving toward the second. “That guy was about to  _ Frankenstein  _ me.”

“Stop thanking that coward, for fucks sake,” both boys jumped when the body of a woman came darting down the stairs, rolling to a stop and hopping to her feet, several heavy chains in her hands, some iron, some silver. “Look I don’t mean to alarm you, but this is hunt better left as a lesson for you.” “How did you get down here so fast?” Dean nearly gasped the words. The woman shot him a withering glare, and he flinched when she pointedly reached up to cup her left cheek, wincing as she did so. “Followed the pull.  _ Obviously _ .”

“Sorry,” he muttered, half hearted until he noticed the weird hat on her head and the hair, “Wait a minute, what are you wearing?”

“What are  _ you  _ wearing?” she asked instead, pulling out a camera before he could open his mouth and taking several candid shots of the brothers before tucking it back with a sly smile. “I played my part. I bought you time. This hunt, I’ve already stepped into it  _ way _ too much. Whether you kill this guy or not is entirely up to you two.. Now I’m going to hide, do what you must. I’ll try to shield Mina..”

“Her name is Jamie,” Dean muttered, glaring a little at the floor when Sam had managed to free him and hurrying to loosen his legs and arms.

“Hey there, Hansel.” Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, Dean cutting him off loudly. “Shut up-!”

“I brought you some clothes to change into.” The duffel bag hit him with a thump before CJ was bounding for the table and ducking behind it, searching for anything of use, then quickly giving up. “I’m not here to fight, got it? I’ll sneak around when he shows and book it to Jamie. She should be through  _ that- _ ” she pointed to the old style wooden doors, two in total, castle style with wooden rings for knobs. “-door right there.”

Sam huffed a little, holding out a silver knife, which Dean dutifully accepted, before they hurried to the door. Dean stopped when Sam had, both wary of what was inside, before Dean gestured for him to go ahead.

It only took one, rather weak kick, from Sam for the entire thing to go crashing down. He stumbled a bit as he went forward, and shot his brother a look. “Let’s go.”

A long stone hallway stretched out, and another door, similar in style to the last, was the only feature at the end. Sam entered first, gun drawn diligently, and when the door had fully opened, both Dean and CJ had hurried inside as well. The room was lavishly decorated, a pizza sitting on a table looking just on the cusp of being cold. Dean hadn’t made it far before a figure had darted in front of him and took hold of Sam’s shoulders, spinning him once before tossing him through a stone- now revealed to be stone-painted ceramic, wall, crashing into the hallway onto the other side with a loud grunt.

CJ ducked quickly behind the nearest large object, being the doorway, staying back just enough so she could see them. A spark of pain spiralled along her back and head, but she forced herself to remain steady.

“You will never win, Van Helsing-!” The dramatic, accented voice of the shifter echoed loudly throughout the room, and CJ waited for her chance to run. Thinking fast, she ditched the wig and hat behind the door, and flinched, feeling the pain sharp and unyielding as it exploded beneath her jaw. One-two-three-four-five.

At least she could handle that much pain.

“And you, Harker,” the shifter nearly hissed the words, as if they were acid on his tongue. “Now, you  _ die _ .”

Dean gave the cheesily dressed monster a swift, hard punch to the solar plexus, letting him fall back several steps to regain lost breath. “How about now, you shut the Hell up?” he ordered instead.

The shifter looked back, seeing the gun Sam had dropped, and looked back at Dean, both males thinking the same thought until Dean rushed forward, receiving a punch to send him flying back again.

CJ hit the wall with the force as her head had snapped back, but managed to roll out of the shifter’s line of sight to the bed, crawling stop it quickly and roughly shaking the blonde woman’s shoulders. Jamie sat up quickly while Dean recovered, taking one look between the boys before seeing the gun and lunging. 

_ Fix it or not-?! _

Make a choice, CJ- make it now-!

_ Jack, Michelle- _

CJ hung her head quickly, covering her eyes as she heard the shifter hiss. 

The two shots were deafening.

“Silver..?”

Sliding off of the bed, tears pricking her eyes, she hurried to the broken wall Sam had fallen through, ignoring the ache of her jaw, back and stomach as she crawled through the hole and fell to his side, ducking under his arm and helping to haul him to his feet.

“T’was Beauty..” the shifter, in accent, his monologue slow, and a small, nearly relieved gleam in his eyes, as he stumbled back several soft, unsteady steps. “That killed the Beast.. No Mina..” 

CJ hurried to help Sam through the hole, pieces of ceramic falling from his hair and clothes as he coughed, flinching under her touch, but pressing closer when she maneuvered them back into the room.

“Do not weep..” the shifter fell back into the ornate chair behind him, his chest constricting, but his words smooth, as his legs gave out, “Perhaps  _ this _ .. Is how the movie should end..” He gave a slow, final exhale, and his body stilled. His eyes, once bright with the passion and eagerness of his production, dimming like the last calls of a final curtain, before fluttering shut.

CJ coughed weakly as Sam stumbled heavily onto the bed, groaning in sync with the Winchester when he had upset his back. 

_ Ignore the body- Ignore it, CJ, just.. Make a joke. _

“Dammit, Sam.. I  _ just  _ reset your spine..”

“Sorry..” he muttered, looking up in surprise when he noticed the soft way she had reached to cup her face. “Are you.. Are you bruising..?”

“What?” she repeated, dropping her hands in immediate fright, wincing when she felt something wet run down her palm. “Oh no.. Oh no..  _ please  _ no..” Her hands fumbled with Sam’s for a moment before she flipped them over sharply, revealing one long gash in his left hand, and some smaller ones in his right. Holding up her own, her face paled further, and her eyes fluttered shut in despair. “Oh Lollipops.. This.. This is not ideal..”

“Before, when you were hurt- we were hurt- you didn’t-”

“Get bruises.. Or bleed?” she finished quietly, her eyes watching in a morbid fascination as she inspected her hands, “Something tells me this is why..”

Sam looked confused, darting his eyes to her hands and nearly feeling his jaw twitch with refrained shock, seeing the wound visibly start to seal itself closed, small bits of plaster pushing themselves out of her skin and falling the the bedspread in soft slivers.

Her jaw ached terribly, but Sam had watched her chin, a morbid fascination coming across his face as a dark blue, then brown, then green, settled over her skin like a fast forwarded video before completely disappearing. “It’s.. It’s like it speeds up.. A lot.. To heal you- but..”

“I can still feel the pain..” she muttered, her hands clenching around her bloodied palms as she bit back a wince, “That.. guy punched hard..”

He sighed through his nose, one arm lifting up to settle around her shoulders and bringing her down to sit beside him as they caught their breath. Jamie and Dean were reuniting, both avidly ignoring their states of dress as they bumped noses and embraced. Dean already knew where his overnight duffel was stashed, so Sam took it upon himself to claim that he and CJ would be getting a taxi.

They would tell Dean about it tomorrow, after they were on the road and he had gotten his fill.

At the very least, that was something they could immediately agree on without words.

* * *

The ride home in the overpriced taxi was silent, and CJ sat huddled beside Sam, one hand clenched into the side of his coat, the other playing absently with the thick, heavy ring sitting on her thumb. He hadn’t noticed it until then.

“What’s that from?” he asked quietly, watching as she blinked at him quickly, before returning her gaze to the emerald stone embed in the almost regally elegant hunk of silver. 

“It was my grandfather’s class ring. I have his Marine dog tags in my bag. I was wearing them when I was.. Found, I guess is the word..” She answered him in a whisper, and the rest of the ride was wordless.

When they had gotten to the room, CJ had finally collapsed onto the bed with a groan, Sam liberally removing his layers before stretching to reach for his bag, removing a pair of pants and a loose t-shirt. “Do you want the shower, first?”

“You might as well, you need to clean out your cuts.”

He gave a nod, humming in agreement when he noticed she hadn’t seen him, and stood to enter the bathroom. He didn’t bother locking it, merely shucking off the rest of his clothes and setting the spray to full blast.

CJ waited five minutes after the water had started before she found the energy to sit up again, reaching over the side of the bed and procuring the laptop from her bag. 

_ Stay busy.. _

Opening the sleek machine, she started typing at the coding, clicking out of several attachments before bringing herself to her research.

_ He killed two people.. _

Pulling the worn journal from the duffel as well, she plucked a pricy blue gel pen she’d splurged for on their last supplies run and began filling in the details she needed. Bobby had hooked her up with some contacts when she’d first started out, knowing she would be accompanying the boys, so she’d been sending out emails and requests of products since day three. The eight spells she’d used for..

_ He would have died anyway.. _

Well, for her first real case..

_ Jack, Michelle and an unborn baby-! Youkilledthemyoukilledthemyoukilledthem-! _

She had copied as many spells as she could manage for the first notebook, ingredients listed, side effects as well. Then she’d moved onto categorizing the second notebook, putting each spell into a sort of ring binder, using cheap pocket folders to separate them by intention.

Binding. Control. Summoning. Warding for demons. Warding for Angels. Warding for witches. Crystal magic. Energy Magic. Runes. Sigils. Entrapments.

_ Stop crying over it. _

_ Breath.. _

She sat staring sullenly at the few pages she had managed to organize alphabetically, her lips pressed tightly together as she lowered her head, a hand coming up to rub at her cheek and chin.

_ Fuck that smarts still.. _

When Sam had emerged from the bathroom, his towel around his neck as he dried his hair, she sat up, and grunted, popping her back and trying to ignore the discomfort. Realizing, once again, that it wasn’t her  _ own _ pain, the girl groaned, loud and long, flopping back dramatically on her bed as she ran her hands over her eyes and down her face. “Sam I swear to all things deep fried, I am going to kill you if I can’t sleep tonight..”

“What did I do?” he asked swiftly, dropping his towel as he shot her a look of confusion. He almost expected her to say something like ‘Don’t dangle a steak in front of a lion’ or ‘Would you like to borrow my scissors for that lion’s mane’, but she merely lifted one of her hands and pointed toward his general vicinity with something akin to passive aggressive resignation.

“Your back hurts.”

“Oh.”

“ _ Yeah _ .”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to help me sleep. Lie on your stomach, I’ll see what I can do.”


	32. Chapter 32

“Dean said to meet him at the bar,” Sam had woken CJ up with a pat to her shoulder, and she wordlessly grumbled and swat at his hand. She’d dressed and put on her little bit of makeup in under ten minutes, carefully arranging her bag together before setting her spare key on the end table and lugging it over her shoulder. Sam was waiting by the door when she’d finished, holding it open for her to exit first and walking quickly to match her steps to check out.

“Dean had a lot of fun, I’m guessing,” they were waiting for the taxi, now, nearly eleven o’clock in the morning. Sam shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes, followed by a tentative, uncomfortable role of her shoulders. “I felt claw marks on my back last night.. _And_ this morning...”

Sam winced in honest sympathy, letting his hand fall back to his side after he’d given her a tentative pat on the shoulder. He’d witnessed the horrors of walking in on his brother before, and from her resigned expression, she seemed to already have a good idea of his brother’s previous exploits. “You _really_ have the short end of the stick.. We should.. _Probably_ tell Dean about this..”

“We’ll tell him about the hand cuts,” she muttered, glaring at him when he opened his mouth, “And no, _you_ don’t get to preach about honesty. I, for one, am not going to ruin sex for him. It’s one of the only good things he’s got left going for him. That, and the actual wounds disappear in a couple seconds.”

“He’s going to figure it out on his own.” Sam’s words were met with a slow, blank stare, and the absolute doneness of her expression sent a chill up his spine, despite the relative heat.

“Funny, I was about to say the _exact same thing_.”

“I’ll shut up,” he muttered, frowning when she only shook her head and stood up, seeing the taxi roll up to meet them.

* * *

Dean and Jamie stood kissing one another in the middle of the cobblestone centre, ignoring the hustle and bustle around them as Sam and CJ stood by. Sam glancing pointedly toward his wrist with a wry smile on his face, and CJ merely eyeing up a few of the windows they stood by. She’d bought a T-shirt and keychain in the time it took for Dean to start, and continue kissing Jamie, and by the time she’d packed it into her bag and settled in for a much longer wait, he had finally started to wrap it up with a couple soft pecks.

“Well thank you, G-Man. You’ve been of great service to your country.”

Jamie’s words were filled with thanks as she spoke between kisses, and Sam glanced at his watch once more. Had they been in the Impala, CJ would have leaned over the front seat to bleat the horn.

“Oh yes, I’m very.. Very patriotic..”

Dean finally glanced back at the duo waiting behind him, and the two giggled before whispering their goodbyes.

Once Dean had started toward them, they turned to find the exit, only to stop at Jamie’s voice calling from behind them.

“You guys saved my life, you know?” She shoved her hands in her pockets, beaming a bit toward the three before nodding, “So, thanks.” She turned and went inside, and Sam scoffed a little, glancing toward Dean. “I like her.”

“Feels good to be back on the job, doesn’t it?” Dean grinned.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “It does.”

“Hero gets the girl, monster gets the gank,” Dean smiled, “All in all, happy ending. With a happy ending no less.

“Heh,” Sam scoffed again, this time shaking his head when Dean had started walking, “Real classy Dean.”

The trio started walking without another look back, Dean with a smug, relaxed smile on his face, Sam trying not to grin knowingly, while also retaining his awkward charm, and CJ half dead to the world with exhaustion and pimped out on coffee and Mountain Dew.

“Hey,” Dean defended calmly, shrugging his shoulder, “All I’m saying is the shifter might have had a point.”

“He had multiple,” CJ piped up for the first time, bringing both brothers attentions back to the woman quietly at their side, nearly scaring them into jumping, but not quite. “Which one are you referring to?”

“It’d be nice, if life were movie simple..” Dean shook his head slowly, glancing toward his brother before continuing. “But if I was turning life into a movie, I wouldn’t do this.. Abbott-and-Costello Meet-the-Monster crap.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded in agreement, rolling his eyes a bit, “I know what you’d pick.”

“Heh, no you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t.”

Dean’s doubt was met with a smile from CJ, and she raised her eyebrows, timing herself to say it perfectly with Sam.

“Porky’s II.”

“What?” Dean shot his eyes between the two of them, a bit spooked by the looks of it, though Sam merely looked down at her with his own raised eyebrows before returning his eyes to Dean.

“You heard me, or, us, I suppose.”

“Lucky guess,” he muttered, turning on his heal and making for the car.

“It was either that or Casa Erotica nine,” CJ giggled, nudging Sam’s arm a bit before moving to follow. “I’ll be doing some work in the backseat, so you’ll need to swat me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” the taller brunette nodded, patting her lower back briefly as they both hurried to get into the car on the same side, CJ having to crawl and turn a bit before she returned to her comfortable position. Back to the passenger door behind Dean and her feet stretched out along the seat behind Sam.

It payed to be short, sometimes. Not all the time but some.

“Onward to our next destination. The theater-!”

* * *

 

And that concludes the Monster Movies chapter-! I don't do author's notes, like, ever, but I just wanted to give a great big thank you to everyone still sticking with me and CJ on her crazy adventure. The comments you guys make, even if you're just giving a fan-rant or letting off steam, are awesome, and give me greater motivation to write. 

I hope you guys have a great day today. :)

~Pistol


	33. Heart Sickness, Head sickness, Eh, It’s Basically the Same..

October 10th came, and with it, CJ’s reluctance to go through with her plans. Figuring it was better to do this procedure  _ before _ the Rising of Samhain and the immediate involvement of Uriel and Castiel, she knew she would need all the time she had to convince the angel that there was a better way to fix this.

She couldn’t very well tell Castiel, as he was the perfect soldier at the moment, and any involvement with Lucifer was currently completely one sided. (The files she’d put together for all of his ‘necessary’ sacrifices would be henceforth delegated to uncaught criminals that his demon army would retrieve. Majority being human trafficking players, major and minor drug cartels. Rapists, murderers, larceners, and people who just generally would be gone and leave the world a bit brighter.) She didn’t have enough confidence to talk to Chuck without outing herself and screwing that pooch, and any possible involvement with Metatron would mean she’d need some  _ major _ unpredictability points going for her.

So, she was left stewing in Bobby’s kitchen as she read over her Enochian scribbles, her plan, to convince the Archangel that she could fix this.

Mayhaps she should make a neatly printed brochure- color coded, of course, with little candy pieces doodled on the side for aesthetics, maybe.

“What are you doing girl?”

Bobby’s voice cut into her reverie, and she jumped in place, sending her pen flying out of her hand and having it hit a pile of books steadily growing at her acclaimed work space. “Fuck, Bobby, don’t  _ do _ that.. The boys do it enough..”

He scoffed a little at her wound up expression, lips pressing tightly together at the sight of the scribbled on sticky notes, note cards, and overall  _ papers _ covering nearly every available inch of the desk. “What are you doing?”

“Do you have any contacts in Jerusalem?”

Her question was such a curveball to what he had asked it took him a second to, quite pointedly, insist. “ _ No _ .”

“Damn it to hell’s seventh circle I need that fucking oil and I am  _ not _ calling Cas..” She lowered her head to the table with a thump, a whine leaving her lips as she felt an aching begin in her neck, and grumbled, lifting her head to glare at the tall, hunched over form of Sam in the living room. “Sam, does your father have any contacts in Jerusalem?”

He looked a bit startled by the request, but shrugged slowly, moving to get his father's journal out of his bag with a frown, “Can I ask why?”

“Weapons that I need are overseas,” she shrugged, a grimace painting her face as she desperately tried to rub the tensions from her shoulders. “Multiple. Meaning I’ll either be flying out there at some point in the next few days, or I’ll be lucky if someone can mail it to me. Big time, lucky.”

“I’m not sure,” he answered after finding the book behind a pile of freshly laundered and comically pressed shirts and pants, pointedly ignoring the fact that all of his clothes had been washed, dried, folded and pressed, including socks and underwear. “I’ll take a look, see if I can find anything..”

“How’s that car of yours coming along,” Bobby asked, seemingly in mood for conversation as he grabbed a beer and sat in the seat opposite to her, looking at the papers in mild frustration and intense regard. “Dean’s fixing it up, but I get to paint her,” a small smile lifted CJ’s face for a moment, and she gave the man a bigger one when he looked up, “Thanks again, for letting me have one of your cars.”

“Can’t be riding around in just a bike,” he huffed, frowning as he turned back to the papers, “Now I’ll ask again, what is all this?”

“Angel language,” she shrugged, a small frown replacing the smile as she sighed, “I have to put it all in an angel-proof lock-box when I’m done for the day, but I need it as coded as I can for now. It’s a sort of algorithm, a plan if you will, that will procure the Apocalypse that both angels  _ and _ demons are rooting for, while also trying to greatly minimize innocent deaths..” Bobby blinked at her slowly, and she huffed, “No, I’m not telling you. I can’t really step in unless it’s the small things so I don’t fuck up the overall future.”

“I hate time travel,” a gruff voice muttered, a grease-stained, but energized looking Dean stepping into the kitchen from the front hallway, rubbing a dirty rag over his eyes and face, “She’s almost done.. Just a few more things to kink out of the engine and she’ll purr good as new..”

“I really appreciate your hard work, Dean,” the small woman stood quickly and stepped up to the sink, reaching for a few paper towels and wetting them before stepping forward to take the rag in his hand, “Here, and after you’ve cleaned up, I have a slice of pie just for you.”

“Where have you been all my life,” he huffed, a smile playing at his lips before he took a peek toward the oven. The house  _ did _ smell pretty amazing..

“What kind of pie?”

“Cinnamon butterscotch.”

“I’ll be back,” he nodded quickly, a rushed sort of urgency to his steps as he hustled toward the stares with a deceptively disinterested face. Sam openly laughed at him when he passed, ignoring his brothers pouty glare when he’d rushed by and returning to the large number of cards in his lap.

“Hey Bobby, want to help me find a Grigori?”

“Grigori?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow when she only smiled innocently, “Please..?”

“What is it? And why do you need one?”

“I don’t need a  _ Grigori _ , I need it’s  _ sword _ . It’s pretty much an angel reject. Cut off from heaven and surviving on the souls of humans on earth. They act sort of like Jinn in the way that they put the captives humans in a sort of dreamscape where they think it’s heaven, that way the Grigori can feed continuously.”

“That’s quite a bit for something I’ve never heard of,” he muttered, shaking his head before furrowing his brows, “And you need it’s sword?”

“Preferably by the end of the day, but who’s really that desperate..” she laughed weakly.

Sam looked over at her slowly, but she was still grinning, and Bobby merely shook his head, adjusting the hat on his head before he moved to go back into his study. “I’ll look into it, tell a couple hunters to keep their eyes on missing persons..”

“Generally where faith healers are concerned-!” she called after him quickly, shaking her head when he looked back at her, “They like to pose as faith healers, often using actual humans as their baits, usually by striking the ‘fear of God’ into them, or healing something of theirs so they are in debt.”

“I’ll put a line out..” he murmured.

* * *

“I can’t find anything,” Sam’s voice had rung nearly half an hour later, and he set the many cards down with a sigh, “Sorry CJ. What exactly are you looking for in Jerusalem, anyway?” Dean glanced up from his savory pie, his second slice, lips curled around the fork in his mouth as he glanced between CJ, who was flipping rapidly through the several books in front of her, and Sam, who had let the ziplock baggie of business cards fall onto the small table he’d commandeered as his own desk.

“Well, I need Holy Oil from Jerusalem and a Cypress branch from a tree in Babylon,” she shrugged, seeing his curious eyes, and elaborated, “And it’s not for a spell, it’s so we avoid a bit of bloodshed in the future. Trust me.” “What’s Holy Oil going to do?” he asked, his fingers twitching toward the journal beside him, his own journal, and a pen, “Does it have any special qualities?”

“Tons,” a bright, honest smile lit up her face, then, and she waved him into the room quickly. Sam waited a second, sharing a look with his brother before he got up, bringing his book with him and taking a seat across from her, careful to avoid her notes as she meticulously piled everything together and pat the desk for him to hurry. “Alright. Holy Oil is like.. A dark cure all.. It’s more powerful than salt, and iron.. Religiously speaking, that is. Pretty sure it could  _ possibly  _ kill an alpha monster, but it’ll sure smart a Knight of Hell- which will be explained at a later date, just not today,” she’d tacked on the end when he’d opened his mouth, shaking his head before pressing his pen to the page and writing Holy Oil at the top, with Jerusalem just beside it with a small arrow.

“What can it do?” he asked calmly, a bit of his younger, passionate thirst for knowledge shining through in his eyes when the woman began bouncing in her seat, looking ready to fall into one of her energized rants that ranged from books with Sam, to pie with Dean, and language dissection with Bobby. She ranted about anything and everything if she got wound up enough. He’d call it cute, had he been younger and a lot less focussed on what he had to do right now..

“Well,” she grinned, “It’s purifying oil. If you are infected with Darkness, the greatest, most powerful evil known to angelkind, you know, “Let there be light-!”, in god’s words, it will cure you of that.” Her voice had pitched into a nerdy, almost nasally rendition of the famous quote, before she widely and dramatically rolled her eyes. “Michael can smite me, the second I get the chance, I’m dousing him with this shit and lighting a match.”

“What else does it do,” he persisted, finishing with the paraphrasing to less include the quote and more the part about darkness. He’d ask about that later, too.

“If you put it in a ring, and get an angel to step inside of it, then light the ring they're trapped there. If they try to leave it their wings would burn and/or they would die.”

“Why would you want to kill angels?” Sam demanded abruptly, pausing his writing at that to shoot her a look.

“Tell me that again when you’re car-shaped and Dean pulls two jugs of oil from the trunk,” she snorted, his obvious, floored confusion only punctuated by a roll of her eyes, “You’ll need this information later. Now write. I warded this damned house for this specific purpose. The sharing of information. More uses.. Oh-! If you burn glasses over holy oil, you can see Hellhounds. That I know for sure. I’m not certain if you could see the essence of an angel, because of it being holy oil, but it has been assumed..”

“You can see hellhounds..” Sam repeated, his eyes wide and blinking slowly when she looked over to him, smiling sheepishly, “Another reason I need the oil..? That.”

“We’re getting that oil..”

“ _ I’m _ getting that oil,” she protested swiftly, shooting him a look when he opened his mouth to speak, “I, at least, have a valid passport. I kinda need it for my work. Government says I can do whatever the Hell I basically want, so long as I send in what I find, when I can.”

“Do the feds know you hunt monsters?” Dean scoffed loudly, his joking laugh dying when she merely stared at him.

“Why do you think no one has tried coming after your asses after Henricksen..?” her words were slow, and measured, and she looked between the boys evenly as she said it. “They’re not stupid enough to try to solve this issue secretly, so they leave it to the actual hunters. Why do you think hunters don’t generally get caught anymore, if at all? They’re stepping back. When Lilith bombed that police station, it was  _ after _ Henricksen had made the call. How do you think I got a job in the FBI as an informant? I keep my ties with them and you’ll never have to worry about jail time.”

The room was silent for a few seconds, and slowly set down his pie. “Are you telling me you’re  _ actually _ FBI?”

“Yep,” she grinned, flashing her pearly white teeth as she pulled the badge from her inside coat pocket, flicking it open for both of the boys to see. “As per my request, they gave me an alias. But the badge and the numbers are real. It’ll come in handy.”

Sam took the small, brown leather flip book, examining the bitchface CJ was sporting in the ID photo. “When did you find the time to even  _ talk _ to the FBI about this without getting thrown into a nuthouse?”

“You mean  _ back _ into a nuthouse?” she corrected, smiling a little when his ears had burned and he flicked his eyes away. “Mostly because despite not being a hunter, I am a severely avid poker and pool player. With those funds, I had purchased a laptop, a burnout, and started sending emails. I used whatever future knowledge I had to link directly with FBI honchos and send in what I knew. They caught Osama Bin Laden because of me.”

The absolute pride in her eyes quickly dimmed as she rolled them, shooting Dean a pointed look as if he would understand her when she smiled humbly, “Though it holds nothing short of a candle to killing Hitler, I suppose.”

“You really need to stop making references to things we don’t know,” Dean spoke sternly, rubbing his hands over his eyes and stubbornly going back to his pie, “My brain hurts..”

“Osama Bin Laden- from 9/11?” Sam sounded more than a little impressed, his eyes lit up as he leaned across the table. “Seriously?”

“I had to do, like, fifteen projects on the guy in school,” she rolled her eyes heavenward before waving off his expression, “Seriously, I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t remember where he was at what point, who he was married to, and his general plans of action.”

“Thats..” he muttered, but didn’t finish, shaking his hand out quickly and pressing the pen to the page. “Holy oil..”

“Right,” she nodded, her voice quite as she closed her eyes, and frowned, “Well, aside from the general darkness killing, I’m taking a guess that it’s like a sort of cleansing thing for demons. I want to try putting a demon in a ring of Holy fire.. See if it either kills them, cures them or what..”

“You can  _ cure _ a demon..?” Sam repeated.

“You’re starting to sound like a parrot, but yes,” she nodded, his eyes lit up like stars, nearly, and she let a small smile paint her lips. “We’re not talking about that, yet. One disscussion a week.” He opened his mouth immediately to protest, but her hand went up across the table and settled firmly over his mouth. “I am not fighting you on that, Lucky. One discussion a week. You can pick the topics, but I will not jeopardize the future just so you can get your geek on with the hidden agenda in the bible.”

“The bible has a hidden agenda?”

“We’re done here.”

“But Holy oil-”

“That’s all I know.”

She gathered up her papers quickly, plucking a stray card from Sam’s hand that he had absent mindedly grabbed to read and placing it in the heavy iron box she’d pulled form Bobby’s basement that he wasn’t using. Sigils were carved on the outside and inside. No angel would be able to get near it, let alone touch it.

“I’m going to look up flights, will you boys be good on your own for two weeks?”

“You’re the one who gets sick if you’re away from us for too long,” Dean pointed out almost immediately, and the stubbornness and joking of earlier had vanished in an instant for his honest protest and concern. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be jumping  _ countries _ if states hurt you so bad..”

“I don’t get hurt, I just lose my personality,” she shrugged, ignoring the way Sam had given her bitch face number seven and tossing Dean a contrite look. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll be in and out. Two weeks tops. If I can’t find what I need, I’ll head straight back.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,”  Dean shook his head. He was going to be stubborn about this. “You said it yourself. It’s the Apocalypse. You’re  _ not  _ going on your own.”

“I’m not asking permission, Dean.”

He seemed surprised at the blank, rather bland way she had said it, though Sam was more shocked that Dean was surprised by her reaction in the first place. “I’m a legal adult with my own money, my own passport, and should I need it, my own roof. I bunk here for convenience sake. But mostly because I like Bobby.”

“Shucks girl, I’m blushing,” his sarcasm could be heard through the doorway, and CJ flashed him a smile over Sam’s shoulder. Settling back into her seat, she raised her voice, so the eldest hunter could participate as well. “Bobby. What do you think? Am I old enough to go to Israel all on my lonesome?”

“S’long as you had your gun, I don’t think there’d be much of an issue.”

Dean shot Bobby an almost betrayed look, while Sam kept himself wisely out of the argument, that is, until Dean directed his attention to his taller, younger brother. “Sam, you can’t be serious. She can’t go-! We get so much as a  _ bruise  _ and she feels it, too.”

“What’s the difference if I’m here or overseas?” CJ scoffed, rolling her eyes again when he’d pinched his lips together. “I’m more mindful of that little connection when you’re  _ around _ , CJ. Believe it or not, before you showed up, the only other person I cared about getting hurt on a hunt with me and Sam, was  _ just  _ Sam.”

“Well I’m  _ not _ your brother, and while I feel your  _ pain _ I don’t keep injuries for more than a few seconds, apparently, so..”

“Wait a minute, what?”

_ Fuck. _

They forgot to tell Bobby.


	34. Chapter 34

It was decided she would leave on the nineteenth. She wanted to be back before Halloween, informing the boys, during the car ride out to one Rock Ridge Colorado, that she was going to be taking the night before Halloween and the day of, off for personal reasons.

“Why would you need Halloween to yourself?” Dean huffed form the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel as they coasted down the road. Sam was in shotgun reading all the lore he could about angels, having been given the comment by CJ that he shouldn’t be too unprepared for the blow-up.

Whether that was information or an actual explosion waiting to happen was for everyone but CJ to guess.

“Uh, sexy costumes. Candy. Alcohol.” She listed off her fingers diligently from the back, barely lifting her gaze up from the book she was reading, “Not to mention I’m hoping to have a date..”

“Date?” Sam repeated, eyebrows shooting up as he used one elbow on the seat as leverage to turn himself in the direction to look her in the eye. “ _You_ have a _date_?”

“ _Hoping_ ,” she shrugged, a small smile quirking her lips as she lowered her eyes to the book again, “I’d rather get to know him before any funny business, though that’s all he seems capable of right this minute..”

“Do we know him?” Dean asked curiously, though there was an edge to his voice that had mirrored his brother. CJ didn’t hear it, to absorbed in the writing in front of her to pay more attention than a bit of a headshake. “Not that I’m aware of. You shouldn’t know him, at least. Not really.”

“Could you be more cryptic,” there was a bit of a groan in Sam’s voice, but she merely rolled her eyes. “Smite me, Winchester.”

“Why do you say that?” Dean asked after a few seconds of silence. They’d turned off the cassette tapes after the second run through of the good ones. “You say ‘Smite Me’, why not ‘Bite me’?”

“Because biting is one of my kinks?” she phrased the answer as a question, and when both heads had swung back to look at her, a sly smile had spread across her face. “What?”

“Nevermind..”

Sam could deny it all he wanted as he faced the road in stony silence, but the back of his neck and the tips of his ears matched perfectly well.

Dean just barely managed a coughing chuckle.

* * *

“Agents Tyler, Perry, and Jordan, meet Frank O'Brien.”

CJ tilted her head a little to the left as she watched the coroner unzip the bag, her nose scrunching up behind her hospital mask and her mouth pulling down at the corners. Morgues were cool once you got past the disgusting smells; her cousin Chrysanthemum had wanted to go into criminal investigation. She’d been obsessed with stuff like NCIS, Criminal Minds, Law and Order, even Death Note, once upon a time..

_Thinking of that kind of put her in a bad mood..._

Sam, seeing the obvious lack of old age, decided to be the first to speak. “He died of a _heart attack_ , right?”

“Three days ago,” the man nodded. Sam hummed in ascent, the lone female of the group stepping forward and adjusting the gloves she’d plucked from the sterilization table, feeling slowly along the line of his ribs that the bag allowed.

“But O’Brian was 44 years old, and according to this,” Sam held up the folder he’d gotten copied of his records. “-a _marathon_ runner.”

“Everybody drops dead sooner or later,” the man shrugged, not seeing the issue, and really not caring. “It’s why I got job security.”

“Yeah, but Frank kicked it here,” Dean continued, nearly cutting him off in his impatience. CJ remained silent, gradually unzipping more and more of the bag until his arms were fully in view, turning the wrist to show the long gashes there. “Just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee, all heart attacks. You don’t think that’s strange?”

“Sounds like Maumee is the problem, to me,” the doctor shook his head. “And why does the FBI give a damn, anyway?”

“We just want to see the results of Frank’s autopsy,” Dean’s voice was curt, and relaxed. Not at all bothered or caring of the man’s question. CJ had positioned both of the dead man’s wrists up for view, her eyes narrowing in thought as she tried to piece together how the case exactly went. Dialogue, mixed in with a lot, _a lot_ , of funny moments. _Yorkie_. Followed by some scary and depressing ones.. Then an Eye of the Tiger montage.

She could work with this. Just..

With minimal involvement..

_Jack, Michelle and an unborn baby-_

“What autopsy?” the man looked confused, watching, in mild surprise, as the woman he hadn’t noticed moved, took hold of the dead man’s arms and measured the claw marks with a flip-out ruler.

“The one you’re about to do,” Dean quipped.

* * *

CJ dabbed gently at Sam’s face while the coroner sutured the body closed. Dean had been forced to hold a heart with two hands, and Sam had gotten splashed with spleen juice.

“Thanks,” he’d only dared open his mouth after she had thoroughly wiped down and disinfected his face, giving her a slow, grateful smile before Dean had addressed them both, letting his balled up apron land in the bin labeled for faculty washing and dusting his now glove-free hands on his jeans.

“Well, we better head to the Sheriff's department. See if we can get a head start on what the Hell happened.”

And then they were sat down in the lobby, CJ pointedly typing away at her laptop, delegating a newer ring of details and hacking into a report for her Operations division.

“Are you working?” Sam’s voice was quiet, but she’d heard him clearly, lowering her monitor a little as she turned to nod at him. “Yeah, just getting a bit more info on these mafia dicks and I’ll be sending it in. Shouldn’t take more than another ten minutes or so..”

“Hacking into a mafia base,” he clarified quietly, and when she’d nodded slowly toward him, he’d scoffed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Why am I even surprised anymore?”

“Technology sucks major ass before twenty sixteen. I’m lucky they gave me a few programs to speed up my processing equipment.”

“CJ,” Dean grumbled, a soft, apologetic murmur coming from the woman before she went back to her typing, “Sorry, Dean. I’ll try not to talk about it..”

“That’s all I ask,” he huffed, a hand pinching the bridge of his nose in silence.

They fell into silence again, CJ glancing up every so often toward the officer working the front counter. He seemed to be trying to play it subtle, but he was obviously enamoured with the fact that there were Federal Bureau agents spicing up his small town routine. Dean had caught him staring a bit too long at CJ, despite it being only when she was ducking her head into work, Sam sharing a similar observation as everyone waited in awkward silence.

“Hell’s bells. Linus have you seen my-?”

The door had opened, showing a clean-cut man in uniform with a thinning hairline and a furrowed eyebrow. He cut himself off at the sight of the agent's, Sam and Dean standing in unison to give him a silent nod and CJ taking her time to put her laptop away.

“Who are they?” he asked quickly, straightening himself out and walking up to the counter as CJ finally took the moment to stand.

“Federal agents, I-” Linus, the officer, started to address the trio, but his superior cut him off in disbelief. “And you kept them waiting?”

“You said not to disturb.”

Linus had started to defend himself, and when it looked like the Sheriff was about to cut him off briskly, CJ stepped up to the counter, leaning on it with a bright sweet smile. “Thank you so much for giving me a minute to rest my feet Officer Linus. We’ve been running ourselves ragged between the morgue and case detail.. I really appreciate you giving us the time to catch our breath. Of course,” she directed her look toward the Sheriff, then, looking for all the world innocent and unassuming, “When he said that you wished to be undisturbed for a time, I immediately took the opportunity to finish my report in a settled environment.”

“..Ah,” the Sheriff nodded slowly, Lucas staring at her with parted lips and wide eyes.

“Well.. Why don’t you three come on back?”

* * *

After promptly being told to discard their shoes at the door, CJ padded barefoot in her thick black socks on the cold rust colored tile. Sam and Dean were close behind her, being a tad bit fazed at the demand. The door shut behind the Sheriff, and he addressed Dean with an outstretched palm. “Al Britton. Good to meet you.”

Dean shook his hand politely, his eyes flicking around the room to inspect it when he’d moved to shake Sam’s hand. “You, too,” the tallest of the four gave him a nod. Both brothers flicked their eyes toward CJ who patiently had her hand outstretched toward the man in silence. Her face was stony, and cold, and she looked anything but happy when the man had hesitated, and lightly, unsurely shook her hand.

“Don’t the Feds usually come in twos?” he asked no one in particular, his tone joking, but when he had briefly caught her eyes, a look of annoyance had flashed across her face, and he quickly cleared his throat before hurrying toward his desk. He uncapped and poured a healthy dollop of disinfectant into his hands as the boys sat down, Sam hesitating at the sight of two seats, but taking it when CJ had put a hand to his lower back and pressed him forward in silence.

The group sat in a few long moments of awkward silence as he continued to thoroughly lather his hands until he was satisfied. When he had finished, he sighed, shifting in his spot so he could lower himself into his chair. “So.. what can I do for ‘Uncle Sam’?”

“Well,” Dean shared a look with Sam, who had taken the initiative to speak, “we’re looking into the death of Frank O’Brian. We understand some of your men found his body?”

Al turned solemn then, his expression unchanging but his posture relaxing deeply into his chair. “They did.” He paused a moment, then continued, with a slight nod of his head, “Me and Frank.. We were friends. Hell, we were _Gamecocks_.” Dean let out a quiet laugh, but from the expression on the Sheriff’s face, it hadn’t been a comparison or joke. Dean stopped immediately, his expression going back to professional.

“That’s our softball team’s name.”

Dean nodded seriously, and CJ hid her grimace behind a quiet, dry cough.

“They’re majestic animals.” The Sheriff looked down, reflecting. “I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was.. He was a good man..”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, a trace of sympathy in his tone. “Big heart.”

Sam shot him a look, but CJ had swat the back of his head sharply when the Sheriff had glanced away. Dean flicked his eyes back toward her quickly, but her look kept his mouth shut.

“Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange?” Sam started the interrogation before anything _else_ could, taking on a stern, but gradual tone, “Maybe scared of something?”

“Oh, Hell yeah,” the Sheriff nodded, not a pause or any hesitation as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk, “Real jumpy.”

“Do you know what scared him?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Wouldn’t answer his phone… I finally send some of my boys to check on him, and.. Well, you know the rest.”

A smile had tugged at his mouth, but it was lined with old age and grief.

CJ narrowed her eyes slowly when he began coughing, quietly at first, until it became gasping hacks. He used his right hand to cover his mouth, his left reaching out to grasp the mint-colored hand sanitizer bottle and pouring a liberal amount into his right hand again before repeating his thorough process. Dean chanced a glance toward his brother. He mouthed the word ‘What?’ but otherwise didn’t make a sound, both boys turning their eyes back to the man now looking up at them in consternation.

“So, why do the fed’s give a crap?” He glanced between the two slightly uncomfortable men, his eyes landing on the woman standing resolutely behind them, feet shoulder with apart and her arms folded tightly behind her back, reminisce of a military position. Her cold expression as she glared at him was almost physically chilling, so he quickly returned his eyes back to the boys. “You don’t really think there’s a case here?”

“No, no,” Dean denied calmly, his nose scrunching up a bit as he tried to brush it off, “it’s probably nothing.. Just a heart attack.”

* * *

“No way that was a heart attack.” Dean’s exclamation came when they were halfway to the car.

“Definitely not.” Sam’s agreement seemed only to trigger a “flashback” in CJ’s mind. _YorkieyorkieyorkieyorkieSNAKE-_

The men stopped abruptly at her sudden laughter, staring at her as they stood next to the car as she doubled over, clutching her stomach and looking near ready to pass out. “Oh cheeseballs- Oh _Lollipops-_ ! _AHAHAHAHAHAHAAA-_!”

“Something funny, CJ?” Sam asked hesitantly, seeing the woman nearly supporting herself on the edge of the car. “Have you been sleeping? Last time you laughed like that was the shifter case.. And your brain was fried..”

“She laughed like a demented cartoon witch?” Dean demanded in a hushed voice, Sam shooting him an unsure shrug at the comparison, before returning to the giggling woman. “What’s wrong? What did you see?”

“YORKIE-YORKIE-YORKIE-YORKIE-SNAKE-... ..I’m.. suddenly very tired..”

The thump she made when her head hit the car had the duo wincing, and it only took a second for Sam to reach over and grasp her by the shoulders so he could open the back door and maneuver her into the back seat- “Alright- yep- okay.. Sleep. Sleep, alright..”

“But I wanna see the banana snake~..”

Her quiet, childish whine sent shivers up the brothers spines, though Sam’s was stiff with indecision when she only clung to his arm, unwilling to let go. “ _Lucky_.. You’re so warm.. And you smell like that nice soap I bought you.. I wanna use you as a body pillow..”

“Okay CJ, you are going back to the motel room and you are going to sleep, do you understand me?” Dean nearly had to raise his voice for the order to be heard over the woman whining like a kicked puppy as Sam tried to detangle himself, “I do not care if your personality dies until we get back, you are _staying_ if we have to tie you to that damn bed.”

“Only if you promise I get to see the banana snake later..”

“Alright, alright..” Sam agreed quickly, prying her now limp arms off of his shoulders and pressing her into the back of the Impala with a huff of breath, “I’ll wake you when we go see the banana snake..”

“Thanks Lucky..” she murmured, tucking in her chin as she curled up into the leather, her head pressing against the duffel behind Dean’s side, her arms winding tightly around her knees as she hummed, “An’ don’ forget I wanna see the yorkie..”

“Alright, alright,” Sam agreed slowly, backing away from the door so as not to startled her, “The banana snake and the yorkie, I’ll remember to wake you up..”

“Thanks Lucky..”

She fell asleep on the spot.

* * *

“So who was the last person to see Frank O’Brian alive?” Dean asked as they sat in the parking lot. CJ was dead to the world, but he was still mindful of his volume, both himself and his brother sitting in front of the Impala on the hood.

“Ahm- His neighbor, Mark Hutchins,” Sam offered after a moment of thought.

“Hang on,” Dean stopped his brother quickly, his voice lowering more in thought, “Hang on.”

“What?” Sam asked, flicking his eyes toward his brother from where they had briefly watched the windshield of the car, moving to follow his line of sight when his tone had sounded concerned. “I don’t like the looks of those teenagers down there..”

Sam shot his eyes to the loitering teens, then shook his head. “Whatever.”

* * *

The second Dean had pulled up the driveway of Mark Hutchins, a body had vaulted from the back seat with a cry, CJ perking up between the two boys in front and hanging over the seat that divided the car, “Hello Boys~!”

“Why do you always use that accent?” Dean huffed, lifting a hand to his heart and fixing his hair with the other, “It’s- it's always something weird with whatever you say- when are you gonna talk normal-?”

“When I’m dead- so _never_ -!” She chirped, startling them both by planting a bright, brief kiss on Dean’s cheek, then turning to give Sam a similar one, almost hitting the corner of his mouth when he’d jumped out of his seat in surprise, gripping the door for support and staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re jumpy..”

“I am energetic-!”

She fell into another line of maniacal cackling, and Dean eyed her as if she had just escaped another mental institution. Or that they may need to send her to one. “Maybe you should stay in the car..”

“NO-!” she had shot him a glare so fast Sam was sure he would have been whipped by her hair had it been two inches longer. “Sam promised I could go see the banana snake-!”

“Do you.. Hang on..” Sam muttered, reaching for the bag on the floor between his knees and fulling out a red bag, “Candy?”

“Ooo~!” she reached out her hand for the pressed-wrapped treat, eyes shining in childlike glee, but she stopped cold when Sam had raised his other hand in a halting gesture, freezing her on the spot. “If you want to go inside, I need you calm. Can you do that?”

“I can do that,” she nodded, looking as if it had taken her extra effort to do so slowly and in a calm way. “I can definitely do that.”

“Now before we go in,” he held out the candy to her, which she was pointedly slow in grabbing, though he drew it back an inch until she had lifted her head to look him in the eyes, “I want you to tell me if you remember anything about this case..”

“Ahm..” her eyebrows furrowed, and she closed them, lifting up her hands to press into her temple. “Yorkie.. Banana snake.. Germs.. Scratches.. Woodchips.. Woodchipper.. Drawings.. Dean getting chased by a yorkie.. Eye of the tiger montage..” She looked up them, eyes narrowing in consternation as she glared out through the windshield, “Something is in Japanese and Bobby has multi-lingually outwit your ass.. That’s about it..”

“Could you be any more vague?” Dean muttered, the tension around his eyes increasing when she slowly, robotically, and almost like a killer doll, turned her head to give him a big smile, white teeth shining and eyes as wide as they would go, he’d lie if he said he didn’t want to bolt. “The thing will happen at a certain minute in a certain hour on a certain day in your near or possibly far-off future.”

“CJ,” Dean muttered, cringing when she perked up at the sound of her name, “Shut up.” She visibly deflated, slouching over the front seat with a grumble, before perking right up again and turning back to Sam with her glittering eyes. “Can I have the candy now?”

“Be. Calm,” Sam instructed firmly, his eyebrows knit in concentration as he glared between both Dean and CJ, trying to figure out what the fuck CJ looked so terrified about and why Dean looked uncomfortable.

Oh well, he’d figure it out later.


	35. Chapter 35

CJ was calm.

CJ was calm as she pet the yellow snake wrapping around her.

It was like a big, warm rope.

CJ was calm.

“I am a very happy person.”

Dean didn’t look to want to be anywhere near her right now, and Sam could only stare at the woman who was calmly allowing the death-trap of a reptile gradually ease its way into a choke-hold from her lap up to her neck.

It seemed almost unreal.

“Wow, Marie really likes you..” the older, more relaxed man in front of the agents sat in an antique-like chair. A snake around his neck and hissing softly at his side. “She won’t come up to cuddle many people, and not many people let her cuddle them, either.”

“She needs a little hat. I want to make her a little hat.” She turned her attention to Sam then, a calm, poised, even dignified expression that in no way gave out the fact that she was sitting on a dity carpet in a clean-cut suit with a giant yellow snake wrapped around her while she sat Indian style and pet it along its spine. “Can I make her a little hat?”

“Maybe..  _ after _ .. The investigation..” Sam offered when Dean showed no signs of speaking, his ridiculously wide, intense eyes trained sharply on the animal constricting slowly around their female charge.

“She’s adorable.” CJ whispered, almost conspiratorially to the snake that now had its head gradually inching toward her face, “You are adorable. I like you. Let us be friends, small-yet-pleasantly-large scaly one..”

“I’m sorry, who did you say you guys were, again..” the animal -loving man seemed broken out of his awed trance of the woman fawning over his adopted children with grace and overall beauty. That only happened in shitty novels and fanfiction.

“Tyler and Perry. Just like Aerosmith, and, uhh, Jordan-!” he snapped his fingers a bit, as if just remembering their names on his own. 

“Yeah, Sam nodded, quickly as his eyes darted from one looming tank thathoused an animal to the next, “Small world. Uhm- so the last time you saw Frank O’Brian..”

“Monday,” he motioned his hand toward the window, being mindful of the snake curling around his arm, “He was watching me from his window.. I waved at him but he just closed the curtains.”

“Hmm,” Sam huffed, forcing his eyes to remain on the man in front of him, and not trail to his fidgeting brother or the giant snake constricting itself around CJ. “Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Scared?”

“Oh totally,” the man nodded, his voice sympathetic, “He was freaking out.”

“Do you know-ah,” Dean tried, after seeing the pointed look his brother gave, launching back into the interrogation, “Do you know what scared him?”

“Well yeah, witches,” the man nodded, no hesitation. 

“Witches,” Sam repeated, eyebrows raised. It wasn’t often, if ever, a person admit to such a crazy occurrence. “Like..?”

“Well, Wizard of Oz was on the TV the other night, right?” he mentioned, explaining, as he brought his attention back to petting his snake, “And he said that green bitch was totally out ot get him.”

“Anything else scare him?” Sam asked, hesitant. This was getting more and more weird.

“ _ Everything _ else scared him,” Mark shook his head. “Al Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener.. Thos PEZ dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff.”

“So tell me,” Sam tried again, trying to start from the top, “What was Frank like?”

Mark seemed to get hesitant then, turning solemn and rather uncomfortable, “I mean.. He’s dead, you know? I don’t want to hammer him, but.. He got better..”

“He got better?”

“Well, in high school he was..” the man murmured, then shrugged, “he was a dick..”

“A dick?” Sam repeat

“Polly wanna crack- ow-!” 

CJ discreetly rubbed the sore spot on her behind that Sam had jabbed his foot into, showing no other evidence in his expression or stance that he had just done so.

Mark, shaking off the odd dynamic, shrugged his shoulders again, “Well, he was a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town’s butt cheeks together..” Dean let out a soft, breathy laugh, but Mark had continued, almost sharply, “Mine included.” That shut him up.

“So he pissed a lot of people off,” Dean summarized calmly, his tone lighter, bit still a bit jittery where he sat, “You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?”

“Well I don’t-..” Mark stopped himself, and looked between the three people with confusion, “Frank had a heart attack, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but CJ had jut her fist down on the toe of his shoe, shutting him up as she offered the man in front of them a sweet, relaxed smile, ignoring the immediate pain in her own, now throbbing, foot. “I’m sorry to inform you, that this may not be the case. The autopsy details are, unfortunately, confidential, but we have reason to believe this was caused by an unnamed variable in the bloodstream. We, of course, cannot give you these details, but we have justifiable cause to understand the exact reason for this occurrence.” “I see..” he murmured, nodding his head slowly toward the woman giving him a kind, apologetic smile. 

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes focussed solely on the nice woman addressing him, “I don’t think so. Like I said, he got better.. And after what happened to his wife..”

“His wife? So he was married.” Dean interrupted, the man looked a little annoyed that he was cut off, but still answered. “She died. About twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it.”

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes drawing toward the snake around the man’s neck. Seeing the attention his pet was getting Mark chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t be scared of Donny. He’s a sweetheart.” He could see the yellow snake curling away from CJ, still wound around her, but inching toward Dean, who had tensed up when Mark’s eyes had nodded toward the woman on the floor. “It’s Marie you’ve got to look out for. She smells fear.”

Dean glanced down to see the snake inching his way, nearly jumping out of his skin, but gradually relaxing when he saw CJ pull her hand up and gently grab the snake’s head, slowly drawing it back down to her lap.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here.”

* * *

“What the Hell took so long?” CJ demanded once they’d burst through the motel room doors, she had been perched up on the right hand side of the couch, fingers pausing over the keyboard of her laptop, “I managed to co-lead an entire investigation in the time it took you to go to a clerk’s office and scout an unoccupied house.” A large bowl of M&Ms were set beside her, and from the sight of the plastic bag on the floor, there was more where that came from in store for the night.

“We think Dean’s haunted.” The first words out of Sam’s mouth were enough to put an edge of panic in CJ’s expression, but her words were still measured and slow, “Oh yeah, kinda figured when I felt nails dragging along my wrists.. “ “And you didn’t call?” Dean was wound up more than ever, breathing like a bull and sweat beading his skin. “What’s going on? Am I gonna die?”

“Sit the fuck down-!” CJ demanded immediately, seeing how he’d moved to grasp at his forearm in anxiety, “And so help me, if you scratch at your arm again I will duct tape mittens to your hands, I do not give a shit.” There was the slightest tremble in her voice, and she whimpered as she rested her forehead in her hands, “Sam, call Bobby. Ghost sickness. Say its Japanese but you don’t know what it is. I’m drawing a blank and I refuse to sleep tonight. I have work- I can do cases, I can sew charm bags, I can fix your damn flannels, but I am not sleeping tonight..”

“You need sleep-” Sam’s protest was met with a glare, and he shut his mouth when she had shut her laptop, shooting him a warming look as she put a handful of M&M’s in her palm, “Sam. Shut up. I  _ can’t _ sleep. I’m not  _ going _ to sleep. I am  _ linked _ with Dean right now.. I am  _ not sleeping _ .”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ .”

“Sorry, CJ,” Dean rasped, pacing across the floor to sit in the center of his bed, drawing his knees up indian style and gripping the knees of his jeans, “I.. I’m not gonna die, right?”

“You’ve got at least another fifty years on your belt,” CJ gave him a sarcastic smile, turning back to her hand and staring icily at the candies in her palm.. “That is if I don’t kill you first.. Scratch your arms again and I will make that a possibility.”

“Gotcha.”

“Good. Now eat. Burger and fries for you, chicken caesar salad wrap and fries for Sam, I already ate.”

“Thanks CJ.”

“Thanks.”

“Call. Bobby.  _ Now _ .”

* * *

Eye of the Tiger was blaring in the speakers, and CJ was loving every second of watching Dean dance. Sam had walked over at the noise, but the look CJ had shot him stopped him from crossing the street, watching as she filmed the Impala from where she stood just to the left of it on the sidewalk, far from pedestrians. He could vaguely make out Dean dancing, practically hanging out of the Impala window,  and closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, to calm down before returning to the details she’d given him.

Yorkie.. Banana snake.. Germs.. Scratches.. Woodchips.. Woodchipper.. Drawings.. Dean getting chased by a yorkie.. Eye of the tiger montage.

_ Well, there was the Eye of the Tiger montage.. _

When he had gotten over there, Dean seemed surprisingly calm. He wasn’t out of breath, or jittery, and he was smiling. CJ, on the other hand, was pale, with bags beneath her eyes, and her body giving a soft, almost unnoticeable tremble. Finally reaching the car, he tapped the tail, watching Dean jerk his head around and usher him forward, pulling up his sleeve and showing him three dark red lines. “Dude, look at this.. I don’t even feel it.. But I.. can  _ kind of _ feel it..? Like, it hurts but it  _ doesn’t _ hurt..”

“I talked to Bobby,” he admit after a second, his brother egging him on with his eyes. “And?”

“Well,” Sam put his hands on his hips, bracing himself, “You’re not going to like it.”

“What?” Dean demanded, a furrow to his brows that was, surprisingly, less tense than yesterday. Sam almost didn’t want to question it. He’d do it later, but for now he’d drop the bomb.

“It’s ghost sickness.”

‘Ghost sickness,” Dean repeated, a laugh on his breath, and he shook his head, “Dude.. I dunno.. I.. I feel fine, now.. Like.. calmer than yesterday..” “Well, that’s what Bobby and I came up with,” Sam pointed out quickly, his jaw tensing as he tried to work out the pieces, “It also fits with CJ’s memories. Germs. Plus, you  _ just _ had an Eye of the Tiger montage.. Or was that not what I just walked up to..”

“CJ yelled ‘Dance Pretty Boy’, if I hadn’t, it would've been a crime,” Dean shrugged, he turned his eyes to the wounds on his arm, looking more like they had happened late last night, and working toward being healed, “I.. I feel fine, man. I mean, I don’t even know what that is.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, straightening up a bit as he tried to explain, “Some cultures believe spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes.”

“Okay,” Dean shrugged, looking firm, and concentrated, “Get to the good stuff.”

“Symptoms are; you get anxious, then scared,” Sam listed out, flicking his eyes between CJ and Dean with confusion before finishing, “Then really scared, then.. Your heart gives out.. Sound familiar..?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, connecting the dots much like he had and shaking his head, leaning back against his baby with a cross of his arms, “But we haven’t seen a ghost in weeks..”

“I doubt you caught it from a ghost,” Sam shook his head, mouth pressed tightly as he examined his brother who had gone to ready to pull his hair out anxious yesterday, to relaxed and ready for a hunt the next morning. “Once a spirit infects that first person.. Ghost sickness can spread like any sickness.. Through a cough, a handshake, whatever- it’s like the flu.”

Dean nodded, his eyes flicking to CJ when she had slowly moved to slide into the back seat, shying away from the sidewalk as people began walking down it.

“Now Frank O’Brian, he was the first to die. Which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero.” “So Frank’s our very own outbreak monkey,” Dean scoffed. CJ was acting weirder than usual. He’d ask later.

“Right,” Sam nodded, “Get this. Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims.”

“Were they Gamecocks?” Dean asked immediately, smiling slyly when Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head. “No. Cornjerkers.”

“So, a ghost infected Frank,” Dean tacked the fact aloud, as they worked through the line of evidence, “he passed it onto the other guys, and I got.. What? A smidge of it from his corpse?”

“You got it from the sheriff.”

The boys shot their eyes to the woman now huddled in the car beneath her big maroon blanket, covering her up to her chin as she curled up in a small ball. “The Sheriff was infected by the corpse. Dean shook his hand.” “So did Sam, and so did you-!” Dean defended immediately, “And Sam got shot with spleen juice in the morgue. I held a corpse heart. If that really was patient zero, we got it from him.”

“Sam’s not infected.”

“Why not?” Dean seemed a little bit offended by that, “and why not you-” he stopped himself abruptly, and the brothers slowly turned their bodies to face the car, watching CJ slowly get deeper and deeper in her maroon colored nest. “Please don’t look at me like that..”

“I’m fine and you're sick-” Dean clicked the pieces together faster than Sam, and he slammed his hand on top of Baby above CJ’s door, making the brunette jump in fright and face them, hazel eyes wide and alert. “You did a spell last night, didn’t you? While Sam and I went to sleep- you put a spell on me.”

“You would have been chased by a yorkie.”

Her answer was so swift it almost didn’t make sense, but Sam got it, and licked his lips, “You said Dean wouldn’t die..  _ Would  _ he have if you didn’t..?” he trailed off, and the boys released a breath they didn’t know they’d held when she shook her head quickly. “No no, Dean lived, but.. He.. he was.. Scared.. Of..  _ everything _ .. And.. and it was  _ funny _ at the time _ \-  _ from a third person’s perspective- but, getting to know you two, like I have, seeing you as  _ people  _ and not just my overactive imagination.. I think it’s safe to say that I would like to keep you both from as much unnecessary trauma as possible..”

She went silent again, swallowing thickly while Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Dean’s eyes were hard, angry, but Sam’s had softened with a heated sort of sadness as he glanced back at her. Dean, being the eldest, decided it was up to him to chew her ass out in a more private setting.

“We will be talking about this back at the room.”

“Yes, Dean..”

It said as much about her mental state when she didn’t even argue over the tone he had given her or the implication that she was literally about to get chewed out.

“I have breakfast, let’s get back to the room and talk more,” Sam offered after a few seconds of pure silence. Dean breathed in deeply, lifting his hands up to his face and scrubbing at his skin briefly before sliding into his seat and starting the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments bring chapters, and my second wind to write. :P


	36. Chapter 36

CJ was in the corner of the room, shivers running beneath her skin and a large, thick blanket wrapped around her body, while Dean remained entirely silent as she walked him through the process of what she could and would, eventually wind up as.

“And lastly, under no circumstances, am I to have socks anywhere near me.”

Sam blinked slowly at her very last bullet point, seeing the absolute seriousness on her face as she kept eye contact with him, then looked up to Dean, “Chew me out _after_ you put the socks in the Impala.”

“What’s wrong with socks?” Sam couldn’t help but ask, his head tilting as he tried to work out in his mind _exactly_ why she was looking ready to bolt from her seat, despite being stuck, at the mere mention of the word. “Dean knows. That’s all that matters. Do it, and I’ll be compliant in my ass-chewing..”

“Don’t say it like that,” Dean gruffed, still beyond angry and pissed, but moving to do as she said, merely taking hold of both of his and CJ’s bags before jerking his chin at Sam, “Keep an eye on her.”

He picked up Sam’s bag before he fully left, and the room was bathed in silence. Sam glanced from the window, back to CJ, eyebrows knitting in concentration as he tried to read the clear anxiety on her face.

“So..” he started slowly, biting his lip as her head perked up quickly to look at him, her focus like a laser and sharp enough to cut steel. “You.. did a spell..?”

“I’ve been studying..” she murmured, her fingers flexing beneath the knit gloves she’d had Dean begrudgingly tape to her wrist with thick silver duct tape. “I just.. Transferred the _effects_ of the disease.. Dean will still be minorly jumpy, but.. He won’t be panicking over every small thing, and he won’t hallucinate anything unsavoury.”

“I just.. Don’t understand,” Sam admit after a few moments, his voice quiet as he perched on the opposite side of the couch. “Why exactly did you do that if you knew he was going to be fine..?”

“I don’t want either of you to be in any pain, I’ve told you this,” her voice was strained, that much he could point out with ease, but her expression was as cool as chiseled stone. “It makes my heart hurt.”

“Don’t you mean your head?” he furrowed his eyebrows, and she lifted her one, good hand over to him, stilling it in front of his face, just so he knew it was there, before giving a firm poke at the crease between his eyebrows. “Stop doing that. You’ll get wrinkles and ruin your good looks. Besides, heart sickness, head sickness? Isn’t it the same thing?”

“You think I look good,” he scoffed, raising his eyebrows in an almost playful way when her face turned deadpanned, eyes shooting away from him to stare at the TV, which was left off. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh?” she scoffed, mimicking his as she swung her gaze to him again. Her shoulders were coiled, but the creases by her eyes had drastically lessened. “How so?”

“Well,” he tilted his head, as if thinking about it, before pointing out, in the most casual tone he could muster, “You’ve never played along when I come on to you.”

“When in the sixth circle of Hell have you _ever_ come on to me?” She outright laughed at him, then, bright and honest as she threw her head back. She looked on the point of crying, really. “Christ, you two are hilarious, you know that?”

“You’re laughing,” he huffed, his mind buzzing as he tried to figure out how any of his steps would be taken. “Why are you laughing?”

“One; because you two are sex walking while I was cleanup crew at my senior prom,” she held up one finger to him firmly, locking eyes with him as her giggles died down to huffs, and her breathing ragged, “Two,” she held up another finger to mark her point, “I am borderline psychotic. Three; the both of you get more gorgeous tail than half of the human population. Four; We have next to nothing in common. And five, probably the most important- You don’t _like_ me.”

“Who says that I don’t like you?”

Sam’s question was met with an almost immediate answer, and CJ rolled her eyes as she said it, throwing her good arm behind her head to cradle her neck, “ _You_ , you _dingus_. It’s all over your face when you think I’m not looking. You stare at me all the time like I’m a wise knowledge Guru or a damned magic eight ball. It’s kind of a giveaway.”

“And you don’t at _all_ consider this staring to be attraction,” Sam continued. He was, minorly, stung by the swift, emotionless jab he’d been given. He’d have to fix that, but..

“Not at all,” CJ shook her head, she looked to be completely at ease as she focussed on the topic, “There’s you with your ‘hidden’ agenda, and Dean in need of sexual freedom. I have absolutely no qualities that either of you would find attractive that _didn’t_ involve my future-telling.”

“I can think of about five.”

The words left his lips with such a quick, casual assurance that he was surprised himself that it wasn’t really a lie.

“Name them.”

_Progress_.

“Well,” he sat up quickly, knowing that his brother would be back any minute, but the adrenaline rush was fueling him to do so quickly. He brought one of his knees up so he could face her, one of his arms reaching along the back of the couch until he was nearly looming over her. “One,” he started off his counting much like she had, his tone just as flippant as it was intrigued, “Would be your hair..” When she had opened her mouth to speak, his hand had slid up, fingers twisting into the silky, brown locks and curling into a fist. She shut her mouth immediately, and he could see the pupils of her eyes go wide as she turned her head as much as she could to look at him. “Two..” His hand had come up to reach for her ankle, that she had propped onto her lap, his fingers finding the odd language curling around her skin and stroking it with burning, languid touches. “Would be your tattoos..”

Her breath, having hitched at the first tug of her hair, gasped a small bit when he’d given another tug, accentuating his point. “Three,” he continued calmly, as if they were just listing off things they needed from the market, though his hand was silent as it ghosted up her leg, not quite touching the flesh of her calves or the jeans of her shorts, until he’d reached her hips, his free hand drawing back until he’d gotten a good grip on her behind and tugged her forward, nearly making her tumble into his chest with the motion, but releasing her when she’d received another tug of hair, “Would be your ass.. Four..” His hand trailed from her hip, gently gliding along her side, along the curve of her waist, before reaching her ribs, his thumbs long enough to rub slowly along the bottom line of her breast, before fully shifting his hand to fit it almost perfectly into his hand. By the way she was ramrod and tense and beet red, he was assuming he was doing _something_ right. “-would be your chest.. And _five_..”

His eyes flickered down to her mouth, her pupils nearly exceeding half of her actual iris as she heaved breath after silent breath, one gloved hand having reached up to wrap around his wrist, though making no move to tug at it, her other gripping at the shoulder of his flannel, fingers curled and body unmoving. “Would be your smart..” _Tug_ . “ _Little_ ..” _Tug_ . “ **_Mouth_ **.”

She was practically shaking in his hands at that point, and he wondered if she was even breathing. His doubts had sated, however, when she’d gasped at another quick, experimental tug of her hair. He felt a smile pull at his lips, and he leaned forward to brush his lips along her temple, breathing in the scent of chocolate and strawberries. “Might have to make it six.. You look sexy when you’re turned on, too.. Seven if we count how fucking amazing you smell right now..”

“This is _really_ not the time to explore how low your standards are, Sam.”

Her voice was, in his shock, surprisingly level, and he pulled back a bit to look down at her, although their noses could easily brush with a little shift.

“They’re not low, first of all. And why not?”

“For one? Dean.”

As if on cue, he could hear the sound of steps in the hallway, and he glanced toward the door quickly with resigned surprise. He looked back down at her when he’d felt a squirm against his lap, almost flinching at the feeling that he’d invoked an unfortunate reaction to his little game. However, having not let go of her hair yet, and not released hold of her back, either, he leaned forward to press a soft, searing kiss into the corner of her mouth, nearly identical to the place she’d given him one the day before, and completely let go of her, scooting back a good foot and kicking his feet up onto the table just as the door opened and Dean came waltzing through. He looked pissed, still, but slightly less annoyed, more so bitter and working his way down to simply mad.

CJ had flung herself to the opposite side of the couch after shooting Sam the nastiest look he’d ever received. The mess he’d made of her hair, however, and the rumpled fabric over her chest made the smile at his mouth tug back into view for a few seconds before he flicked his eyes back to look at Dean over his shoulder, his expression calm and his voice concerned. “Everything alright?”

“CJ’s got a bit of talking to do,” Dean nodded toward the woman on the couch, his frown deepening at the sight of her flushed skin and clearly shuddering limbs beneath what was left of her rumpled blanket. “And we’re not leaving this room until we get every detail that we need.”

“That might be a while,” the woman spoke up softly, biting her lip when he’d shot his gaze to her like a disappointed parent.

“How long,” Dean demanded gruffly, his voice clipped and stern as he stood in front of her, arms folded tightly against his chest. “How long until you kick the bucket- because we need to know our deadline to solve this damned thing, and if we should get our asses in gear.”

“Twenty-three or so hours,” CJ spoke slowly, lifting her eyes up to Dean when he’d given a sound suspiciously like a growl, “Look, I don't regret taking the effects. At least if I have a heart attack, I have a chance of surviving.”

“Why wouldn’t I have a chance?” Dean glared at her.

“Maybe because-” her voice was shrill when she had bounded to her feet, and she locked her jaw shut, biting her words off mid-sentence and forcing herself to calm down, shoulders shaking with the strain as she lowered her head. “At least, this way,” she amended sharply, her voice was as raspy as Dean’s, but more choked, fear twisting in the tone of her words as thoughts tried to swarm behind her eyes and blind her. “You don’t get chased by a yorkie, you don’t get scared of a cat, you don’t wind up tearing your wrists to shreds, and you don’t wind up on the cusp of death. Now that you have the information, as soon as Bobby gets here tomorrow morning, you’ll take care of it. Both of you. You’ve done it before, even with Dean hyped up on adrenaline and terror, this will just make it easier, and go by quicker.”

“Never-” Dean had stepped forward until he was toe-to-toe with the woman, staring down at her, and refusing to continue until she had, begrudgingly lifted her eyes to hesitantly meet his own, “And I mean _never_ , put a spell on me again without my consent. Do you hear me? The rougarou case? That was a stretch on it’s own- magic is bad news all around- My opinion of witches has not changed since meeting you. I will not hesitate to correct the problem, if you put a toe out of line with this crap again. Do you _understand_ me, CJ?”

She bit her lip, unable to look away from his face as she swallowed, and finally closed her eyes. “I understand, Dean.”

“Good,” he let out a low, slow breath of air, lifting his hands to press his hair back on his head, before reaching forward and pressing her to sit back down. “You are riding this sickness out, and then you are going back with Bobby-”

“What-”

“Let me finish,” his voice was crisp, and she shut her jaw, ducking her head as she drew her knees to her chest in submission on the couch, tucking her face between them and wiggling her gloved fingers against the cheap couch cloth beneath her. “You will be going back with Bobby, hell, you can even go on your trip, but the second you get back? I don’t want _any_ more magic. None, unless it is run through either me, Sam, or Bobby. Hell, actually, it needs to be run through _all_ three of us- because as great as it may be that you think you can help out every other case with bits of information, and as simple as you can probably try to make it out- none of this gives you the right, or the reason, to be so god-damned suicidal.”

She could have said multiple things to that last line, but kept her mouth shut, sucking in a deep breath and letting out a slow one, just as Dean had done a bit earlier. “Yes, Dean.”

“I mean it, CJ,” his voice was sharp, and unyielding, like the edge of a glimmering blade, “I don’t want you using magic unless you get three okays, do you understand? Remember when I said I’d trust you until you gave me a reason not to-? This- this is a step in that direction.”

“I’m sorry okay-?!” her voice raised without her consent, but it was like she had little control over the word-vomit spewing from her mouth, “I’m sorry that I hate it when you get hurt-! I’m sorry that I want to cry when you’re sad-! I’m sorry that I feel your pain and see your future-! I’m sorry that I seem to drag you back so much when all you used to need to do was to follow your Dad’s orders and look after your baby brother-! I’m sorry-!” Her hands flew to her hair, tucking at the strands and digging into her scalp as she bent over, the boys were tense, and rightfully so, looking either ready to restrain her or something else entirely, “I’m sorry I had to wind up in this ass-backwards place with a fucking glitch in my brain-! I’m sorry I can’t go anywhere away from either of you for too long before practically losing my soul-! I’m sorry that I hate your father, and your grandfather-! That I hate how often you’ve been beaten, prodded, poked and torn apart-! I’m sorry I felt that stupid pull in the first place- but do you know what-?!”

Her voice was nearly screaming at this point, and the absolute gleam of wild frenzy in her eyes had Dean frozen to the spot, arms outstretched as if she would spring at him, but fingers curved in preparation to hold her down, if he needed to.

“ _I will never be able to live with myself if I let anyone else you care about die-_!”

Her breathing left her in long, ragged gulps, and she collapsed onto the couch with a grunt of pain, fingers twisting as she fought off the itchiness in her arms. “Just finish the fucking case. Something about the woodmill. Sam has a theory on how it spreads. Talk to him. I just want to sit here for a while.”

Sam blinked slowly at the woman now curled up just three feet from his knees, his eyes blown as wide as Dean’s as they watched her gradually lower herself from her hysterical fit. Steeling himself, he cleared his throat, nodding towards his brother once when he’d shot him a surprised look. He probably just remembered that Sam was there.

“Right..”

* * *

“We checked out the woodmill-” Sam and Dean returned to the room just as CJ stumbled out of the bathroom. Despite wearing ridiculously thick yarn gloves, she had still been able to keep a good grip on things. Like the bottle of jack she’d gotten, for example. “Hello~ boys..”

“And we’re back with the accent,” Dean huffed, having not seen the now calm woman leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, more preoccupied in looking over the ring in his palm. Sam, however, had been the first to see her, and had rushed a bit to reach her spot, holding out an arm when she’d taken a step forward, and catching her bicep when her feet tumbled. “How much of that have you drank, CJ?”

“Thas’.. I think.. Fifth..?” her words were quiet, and slurred, but her face was slack, and relaxed, “I spit out.. Woodchips.. After you left.. They hurt.. Alcohol helped..”

“You spit out wood chips?” Dean finally seemed to take notice of the woman slouching against Sam, seeing the light in the bathroom, he walked over, opening the door wide enough so he could see as well as his brother. Empty bottles of beer sat in a neat line atop the counter by the sink, six in total, and two empty bottles of jack and vodka were spread out messily by the floor near the bathtub. A bathtub filled with cold water.

“What were you doing?” he asked immediately, his eyebrow ticking in annoyance when he’d turned to see her snuggled into Sam’s stomach, eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowly. “CJ-!” His loud voice spooked her, and she screamed, practically jumping into Sam’s chest, the hunters arms winding around her automatically as her feet left the floor. Her position closely resembled a koala as she shuddered against the taller brunette, eyes pinched shut and gritting her teeth. 

“I just wanted a bath..” The muttered words were muffled by Sam’s chest, but still audible, and Dean had to take a deep, long breath to calm himself before he motioned for Sam to put her over by the beds. “Alright,” the tallest hunter sighed, scooping her up by her thighs and holding her tighter when she constricted herself close enough to him that he could feel her damp skin beneath her clothes. “Alright, CJ. Time for bed.”

“I wanna dog.. Can I get a dog..?”

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Sam blew out a huff, using one hand to draw back the covers before carefully laying her out, jeans, sweatshirt and all. “We’ll talk about it when you’re sober.”

“M’ not drunk..” she muttered, her voice fading as she curled up beneath the heavy blanket Sam pulled over her, followed by the spare blanket, and layering her big, fluffy maroon one out over the pile so she was triple-covered. “Jus’ tired..”

“Then sleep,” Sam sighed, lifting a hand to press against her temple, a grimace flashing across his face at the almost frigid temperature, before he shook his head, and turned back to his brother. “So, Luther Garland. We should get changed, head out to the station to get the file.”

“Be nice to Linus, his boss is a dick,” CJ’s voice, both strained and soft, filtered through the blankets, and Sam frowned as he adjusted the comforter a little lower so she didn’t suffocate. 

“Any hints, oh wise knowledge Guru,” Dean asked. His sarcasm was thick, and it was clear he was still pressingly annoyed about earlier, though the fire had died a tremendous amount.

“Bobby has spell chains.. Ask him to road-haul the ghost.. S’ how you did it when I saw..”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he muttered, sighing a bit when he noticed she wasn’t even conscious anymore, merely curled up beneath the blanket and perfectly still.


	37. Chapter 37

It was around six o’clock when the boys had returned to the motel room. Sam knew something had shifted in Dean the second he had opened the door of the motel room and dropped the file he’d been holding.

What he hadn’t expected to see was the literal piles and piles of toys, rags, and herbs scattered around everywhere.

By the muttering, frantic, quipped, and in a language he didn’t know, CJ seemed to be sitting in front of the couch. Stepping around his brother, whose eyes were burning at the sight of the possible incriminating evidence, he let out a sudden, silent breath of relief when he’d rounded the couch, and watching the brunette woman frantically stuffing bag after bag with bits of each item in the bowls around her and frantically sewing them closed. She used her teeth the snap the thread, then moved on to the next one, her movements quick and fluid, but her hazel eyes wide with a panic he had not seen on anyone not being chased by a monster.

“CJ,” the second he had breathed her name in a question she had damn near screamed, scrambling around in her spot and pulling a knife out from beneath the couch, pointing it quickly at Sam, who had raised his hands abruptly in surender, stepping back for good measure as she checked him over, twice, and lowered the weapon, groaning softly as she let the knife hit the carpet and her body sag to the right, leaning her weight into the couch and giving him a weak, displeased glare.

“Sam, I swear to everything deep-fried and chocolaty.. _Stop doing that-!_ ”

“What the Hell is all this-?” Dean’s question was met with an answer when he had marched over, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the mess of weapons she seemed to be building. “CJ, what the Hell..”

Sam had glanced down to the floor when his brother had, eyebrows lifting even higher at the sight of more hula hoops, more water guns, and what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of scribbled on papers. They were gone for maybe a little more than seven hours, what could she have done in that-

“I needed to work..”

Her gloves, while having seemingly been torn off, were lying in shreds near the television, which still remained off, though the duct tape around her arm remained in place, likely due to the fact that she was unconsciously scratching at the smooth surface, leaving the irritated skin alone.

“It’s just charm bags, salt hoops and holy water guns. I thought I’d build up stock for when Bobby helped me get my hunter business rolling.. I’m also making care packages.. For the victims.. I’m thinking of purchasing boxes and putting in little books so victims can prevent future attacks. Also, for people who’ve been possessed by demons, therapy recommendations and a bit of info on what tattoos could prevent such a thing happening again.” Her rambling was quiet, and she had turned her head forcefully down to her lap to stare sharply toward the unfinished bag. She was only half-finished, then she needed to bless it and set it aside.

She’d made fifteen so far.

Not nearly enough.

“You need to go to sleep,” Dean took a slow, deep breath at the way she was clearly strung out, her left leg bouncing absentmindedly in a quick, jerky movement and her fingers drumming restlessly against her knees. She looked up at him in a start when he’d let his firm, annoyed demand meet the air, and Sam had sent him a similar, surprised look. Brushing it off, he pointed to the bed, Sam’s bed, that she had fallen asleep in before they had left.

“I mean it, go to bed. I will not have you spending the rest of this case in a jittery mess because you couldn’t calm the Hell down.”

She visibly swallowed, slowly nodding her head and bringing her knees to the floor, legs shaking minutely as she moved to stand.

When she had stumbled over her feet, Sam had smoothly caught hold of her arm, gently steadying her before helping her around the bowls. When she had gotten close enough, she had collapsed face-first into the bed, Sam’s again, to Dean’s brief irritation, until he remembered why she was ill in the first place, and his irritation morphed to anger, which simmered back to the normal level of agitation.

“Don’t you dare fake sleep again. I want you to get at least six hours tonight, you understand?”

“Yes, Dean..”

“Good.”

* * *

_Jack Michelle and an unborn baby-_

_Skit was screaming into a silent void, blue and pink braids undone and tangled wildly as her hands clutched at her ears and pure, unadulterated fear stayed blazing in her eyes as she stared at her sister._

_Jack Michelle and an unborn baby-_

_Chrys was clutching her chest, hair just as red as the blood pouring from her lips as she struggled against the urge to hack up what was left of her stomach acid and draw more blood.._

_Jack Michelle and an unborn baby-_

_Reece was clutching his fingers over his eyes, blue wisps hanging low over his eyes with dark brown roots peeking out from his scalp, not even looking at her as he kneeled before the near perfect rectangle carved into the ground, the coffin set upon the boards holding it up ever so uneasy, as if it could suddenly splinter and send the entire case crashing down.._

_Jack Michelle and an unborn baby- Jack Michelle and an unborn baby- Jack Michelle and an unborn baby- Jack Michelle and an unborn baby- Jack Michelle and an unborn baby-_

_You killed them- how could you- YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE-!_

_MICHELLE WOULD HAVE LIVED- what use were you on the shifter case- he still died- those people still died- you should have done something- you should have done something-_

_YousshoULDHAVED_ **_ONESOMETHING_ ** _-_

“Heyheyheyheyhey-! CJ-! CJ, wake up-!”

The brunette sat up with a gasp, her throat constricting painfully as she cut off her cry. She was sweating, her clothes stuck slick against her legs and back, perspiration painting her hair to her head and neck, while her neck felt like it lost a battle with a firehose.

Sam had a grip tight on her shoulder, while Dean was holding her forearms, her hands clawed stiffly around an invisible attacker and her body visibly trembling beneath their holds.

“CJ, what did you see?”

Dean’s voice was quiet, and slow, but the wide, alert brightness in the woman’s eyes before him were anything but close to falling back into sleep. She looked ready to finish the last leg of a marathon, muscles be damned. “CJ, I thought we talked about this..”

“It wasn’t you-” her throat was hoarse, and she idly wondered if she had been screaming- if the cops would have been called for any disturbances. “It.. It wasn’t a vision, it was.. It was something else..”

Dean closed his eyes, his hands slowly lowering from her arm, and gripping at her clawed fingers, trapping both of her heated, flushed hands between his own monstrous palms and gently easing his fingers at the knuckles. “You are awake,” his words were slow, rhythmic, and almost practiced, as he softly relaxed her fingers back from their curled position. “You are here with us, and you are safe. There is nothing going to hurt you, and there is nothing going to hurt us. We won’t let that happen. Take a deep breath, and if you want, we can talk, if not, I’ll get you a beer, and we can see what’s on the crappy cable.”

“Dr Sexy MD?”

“If it’s on.”

“Option two, please,” her throat was hoarse, and suddenly any thought of liquid to quench her thirst would have been heavenly. Suddenly finding the mind to take in her surroundings, she needn’t even have turned her head to see the tangled sheets around her legs, and Sam beside her, still holding her close, enough so that she could free the ruffled, damp brown hair that Sam stirred with his own slow, cautious breathing.

“Are you alright?” his voice was quiet, speaking almost under his breath near the shell of her ear when Dean had turned around. He almost missed the delicate shudder that ran through her spine at the action, but his instincts had forced him to, at the very least, _feel_ it, though.

“Go back to bed,” she whispered, instead, moving to get off of the mattress and pad over to the couch. She curled up on the cushions as Dean returned, two beers in hand. He held one out to her, closing his eyes when she took it and falling into the seat beside her with a soft thump. It took a few seconds for them to find the cable, then play old reruns of another, less-known soap opera, but Dean and CJ didn’t seem to mind, merely sitting in the bright blue light of the TV while Sam watched them from the bed. Eventually, sleep called him back, and he took a long, lasting look at the two before returning beneath the covers, ignoring the sudden unease of the empty space beside him.

He shouldn’t get used to it.


	38. Chapter 38

_ Dear Lucifer, are you listening..? _

_ It’s me, CJ, again..  _

_ Sorry, if I’m annoying you.. I just.. _

_ I needed to get something off of my chest in case this didn’t pan out.. _

_ I.. I might die, for real, this time.. _

_ I know, I’ve tried, a couple times before- and, the most bizarre thing happens to heal me- but.. But I think this might be the end for me.. I’m kind of sick.. Not.. not human sick.. It’s.. it's a spirit sick.. And I might really die.. I just.. Wanted to let you know, that if you don’t hear from me soon.. I might not be able to greet you when you get back up here.. _

_ I’m.. I’m rooting for you, you know..? _

_ I know you’re good. I know about the mark of Cain, the darkness, all of it.. and that you love your brothers- Michael, especially- _

_ And I want you to know that I have faith in you.. _

_ I know you don’t want the Apocalypse.. I know you don’t really want to fight your brothers.. I know that, and.. I hope they can someday see that, too. _

_ I want you to know, when you get topside, that you should talk to Gabriel.. _

_ He’s hiding, right now, or, as he likes to call it, witness protection. But.. _

_ You should get in touch, when you get to Earth, make it priority number one. Tell him, convince him, that you do not want to fight Michael. _

_ He will listen.. _

_ He will be stubborn, and disbelieving, at first, but he will hear you out. You are his brother, and he loves you. _

_ He wants the fighting to end just as much as you, if not more. _

_ I.. I should go.. You probably hate the sound of my voice, anyway, right? _

_ Humans, in your eyes, aren’t the most pleasant of creatures.  _

_ Well, I guess, for now, this is goodbye. And.. _

_ I hope to speak to you, again.. _

_ Morning Star.. _

* * *

Tires crunched along gravel as the rusted grey Chevelle rolled up behind the black Impala, both a bit dusty from the ride toward the mill. Sam sat upon the front hood, Dean beside him, both with their hands in their pockets and watching almost broodingly over the steel warehouse. Bobby exit the car with an aged creak, shutting the door when both Winchesters had looked over their shoulders and got up to greet him.

“Howdy boys,” the elder hunter greeted, nodding his head and letting out a puff of air at the men in front of him. The female was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam nodded, stepping around the car as Dean followed, “Heya, Bobby. Thanks for coming up so quick”

“Where’s Little Miss Apocalypse?” Bobby scoffed, a furrow to his brow that gave away the actual concern in the question. “Dean looks fine..”

“Home, sick. CJ cast a spell to take the disease away from me,” Dean stated outright, as if ripping off an old bandaid, “She decided to do this behind my and Sam’s back, while we were sleeping, and since she had nowhere to put the damn thing, she gave it to herself.”

“Why in the Hell would she do that?” Bobby had a bitch face almost as drastic as Sam’s. There was a trace of anger in his tone, none of the men wanting her to be in any way shape or form in or near danger. She wasn’t a hunter. She was a fit civilian, at best.

“Ask her that  _ after  _ we get her off of the chopping block,” Dean sighed.

* * *

CJ sat curled up in the corner of the couch, new gloves taped up her arms and a blanket around her shoulders as she watched the acclaimed Doctor Sexy order around several attractive hospital staff.

“That is not the correct way to stitch up a stab wound, where in the Hell did your character go to medical school?..”

* * *

“So have her hallucinations started yet?”

“Yeah, a few hours ago,” Sam nodded, a smile twisting on his lips as it battled a grimace. “We had to put our shoes and socks on in the hallway.”

“How we doing on time?” Bobby dismissed the comment for later. For now, they had a job.

“We saw the sheriff about nine, nine-thirty, monday morning, so.. Just about three hours?” Dean let out a slow deep breath biting back a quip about how ridiculous all of this was in the first place, before shaking his head, “Two hours if we take into the fact that we visited the coroners.”

“What about you? You find anything?” Sam was leaned up against the Impala as he asked, Bobby leaning beside him while Dean paced a few feet back and forth in front of them, burning off his excess anger.

Bobby pulled a book out from under his arm, handing it over to Sam as he cleared his throat, “This, uh.. Encyclopedia of spirits dates back to the Edo period.”

“You can read Japanese?”

The gibberish that fell from Bobby’s lips stunned both boys into thoughtful silence, but a ringing filled the air, coming from Dean’s pocket. Seeing the caller ID, he flipped it open quickly, bringing it to his ear with an urgent, “What’s wrong?” Bobby and Sam snapped their eyes over to him, both straightening up a bit, as if prepared to run to their cars.

_ “Tell Bobby he’s old.” _

“What?” Dean’s concern faded to bafflement, and he pulled the phone away to look at the screen, before bringing it back to his ear. “Why in the Hell would I say that?”

“ _ He’s going to say something in Japanese in a few minutes, I think, so when he does, tell him CJ calls him out on his age. He’s been speaking Japanese since before Sam was born _ ..”

“Did you call me for any  _ serious  _ reason?” Dean asked slowly, the irritation in his voice making his words sound clipped and forced, the men in front of him exchanging glances when he stopped his pacing to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Because your life is  _ kind of _ on the line right now..”

“ _ I’m not feeling very good.. Can I leave the room at all _ -”

“You are not leaving the room.”

“ _ But alcohol helps _ ..”

“CJ,” His voice had hit an octave that nearly put shivers down the male’s spines as he growled into the phone, “Sit. Your ass. Down. We will be back at the room soon. If I find out you left..”

“ _ Shit- no-! I gotta go, Dean-! The heart surgeon just got an emergency patient-! Sorry _ -!”

“CJ, don’t you dare hang up-”

The dial tone cut him off, and he had to force himself not to snap his phone closed as he shoved it in his pocket. After taking a few seconds to breath, he turned back to his brother and father figure, his face drawn in annoyance. “CJ’s doing fine, for now.”

“Anyway,” Bobby motioned toward the book after a moment of silence, “this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy. It infects people with fear, it’s called a Buru Buru..”

“Does it say how to kill it?” Sam, finding no point in looking at scribbled, lowered the book and directed his questions toward Bobby.

“Same as usual, burn the remains.”

“Great,” Dean scoffed, kicking back his boot and sending pieces of gravel behind him, “Just great.”

“Wonderful,” Sam agreed, nodding, before giving Bobby an almost strained smile, “Is there a plan B?”

“Well, the Buru Buru is born of fear- Hell, it  _ is _ fear. And the  _ lore _ says, you can kill it  _ with _ fear.”

“So we have to scare a ghost to death?” The brothers finished in unison, breifly tossing each other looks before returning their eyes to Bobby. The elder hunter nodded, already having expected as much. “Pretty much.”

“How the Hell are we gonna do that?”

* * *

“Lady, that coat should not be worn like that- you’re gonna get smacked with dress-code violation..” CJ was now under three blankets, head tucked down and her teeth biting sharply at her bottom lip as she eyed the screen, “Lollipops, I cannot  _ wait _ until Gabe sends us to TV land..”

A chime cut through the air, the leading crescendo to one of the more renowned Kansas songs, and CJ had to take a few seconds to untangle herself to reach for the cellphone on the table. She pulled herself back into her nest, her eyes the only thing visible from the pile as she kept them trained on the hustle-and-bustle of the screen. 

“Hey Sam.”

“Hey, CJ,” he greeted quickly, his voice bright as if he were grinning on the other end. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. Dean got a call from you earlier.”

“I’m watching people get cut open and slapped. I’m doing pretty good.”

Sam paused at the dull, nearly emotionless admission, before psyching himself back up, tone lighter, “Well that’s.. .. _ good _ . I just wanted to let you know we’ve got a plan.”

“It’s a stupid plan. You’re going to road-haul a ghost. Just do it.”

Sam didn’t speak for a minute, scuffing one foot on the ground before taking a deep breath, and letting it out, “Are you  _ really  _ okay.”

“Don't go in with guns,” she answered instead, her tone cool as she glared distastefully toward the woman flirting on her shift,  _ “ _ He’ll be afraid. Just take the chain, keep it out of sight till you can corral him. Should be easy with both you and Dean.”

“Thanks,” he hummed, glancing toward Bobby, who removed his gun from the trunk, lifting his hand and motioning for him to wait a second, “Are you sure this will work?”

“Worked when I saw it.”

“Yeah, well,  _ Dean  _ was the sick one, when you saw it. What’s the guarantee, here?”

“None at all. Just do it. I trust you.”

“Fine, just.. Hang in there, alright?”

“Bye Sam.”

The brunette looked down at the phone in his hand, blinking at the dial tone and lifting his gaze to his brother, who had been casually examining the chains Bobby had removed from his arsenal. “She hang up on you, too?”

“She’s short when she’s away from us. I’m not really surprised,” he tried to find a defending tone, but he knew there was no real way to finish the sentence without egging his brother on, instead choosing to rejoin the hunt.

“This is a stupid plan,” Bobby’s comment was quipped when he’d gone in to grab a few things, an iron crowbar, for one, and another gun, “I know I said scare the ghost to death, but this?”

“CJ said it worked, “ Sam shrugged, leaning over a bit to glance at the mes of hunters tools before addressing Bobby again, “Hey, if you’ve got a better idea, I’m listening.”

“Ready?” Dean raised an eyebrow, and moved toward the entrance when his brother nodded, only waiting until he was joined by the taller brunette before they disappeared inside.

* * *

The second the Sheriff had barged into the room, CJ had smashed the hotel provided vase over his head and watched him crumple to the carpet in a jittering heap. His gun fell to the floor, and she picked it up using her gloves and put it on top of the counter. Lugging him over to the beds took a bit of energy, but tying his feet down was simple enough. She just used his cuffs to put one wrist to the headboard and returned to her seat on the couch, re-curling herself into her nest and relaxing into the warmth to continue her program.

Hmm. She didn’t even miss the show. The Sheriff just butt in during a commercial.

_ Lucky.. _

* * *

When the feeling of tight muscles and roaring panic had subsided in her body, CJ sank into the couch with a long, quiet groan. From the muffled coughs behind her, and the slow, gradual breathing, she knew the Sheriff would live to see another day.

A ringing cut through her peaceful silence, and she grumbled as she snatched the phone from the cushion beside her, again.

“CJ, we just finished up, are you al-”

“Before you say anything else,” she cut off the taller Winchester crisply, her voice levelled as she turned in her seat to look at the bed behind her, “I have the Sheriff tied to the bed. He came up here to shoot me. Or, us, I guess. I smashed a vase over the back of his head to knock him out. He would have died if you’d taken any longer.”

“...”

“You good Sam?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I’m fine. We’ll be back at the hotel in about twenty minutes..”

“And Sam-”

The Winchester hesitated with pulling back the phone, humming a little to show he was listening when he heard the sound of her taking a slow, deep breath in and out.

“Thank you.”

He blinked, his eyebrows raising a bit in surprise at the appreciation, though he really shouldn’t have been, although it seemed a bit more sincere than usual. 

“No problem.. We’ll be back soon.”

* * *

CJ tosses the small bag of charms around in her palms, back-and-forth-and-back-and-forth.

“I still can’t believe we road-hauled a ghost,” Dean scoffed, the Impala and the Chevelle parked in the middle of a deserted construction site a while out from the town, “With a chain.”

He offered a beer to Bobby, who shook his head, shrugging his shoulders before handing it over to Sam and cracking one open for himself. CJ was zeroed in on her little bag-toss where she sat crouched on the ground, hazel eyes focussed like lasers on the object that went from palm to palm as if it were burning. He couldn’t look at her for more than a few seconds before remembering the hassle she’d put herself through for his sake, and he would get angry, again, so he chose to reel himself back into the conversation, just as Sam responded to his comment.

“Iron chains; etched with spellwork.” Sam cracked open his beer as his brother took a sip of his own, shrugging his shoulder to loosen the light ache between them before continuing, “It was what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though.”

There was a second of silence, and Dean let out a breath through his nose, before raising his hand in a mock toast, “Well, on the upside, CJ is still alive, so.. Go team.”

“About that,” Sam muttered, turning his eyes to the woman near Bobby’s feet, he, unlike his brother, didn’t seem to be very upset. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

CJ caught the bag sharply in her left hand before she looked up, a cool glaze having covered her eyes as she blinked back to reality and gave the taller brunette a slight frown. “Just fine.” “We’re gonna be havin’ a word about that, later, girlie,” Bobby warned her, a firmness in his voice that was often given to the other two when they had done something incredibly stupid. 

“Yes, Daddy..” she drawled back, lifting her almost dead expression towards him with a false bat of her eyelashes. She’d nearly perfected the accent. 

“Get yer keester in the car,” he muttered, tapping his boot to her leg when she rolled her eyes and watching as she went to the back of the Impala, lugging out two, clearly full trash bags, and pulling another large duffel after that before moving to transfer everything, including herself, into his Chevelle. When she was tucked inside the vehicle, and settled into her seat, he lifted his eyes back up to the boys with a frown. “You’re sure you want her to come back with me? I thought distance was a bad thing between you three.”

“She’ll be fine with you before her trip,” Dean sighed, tipping back his beer and glancing toward the woman in question, immediately snapping his eyes away when he caught himself. “Just be sure she doesn’t do anything else stupid.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he huffed, shaking his head before moving to round his car for the driver’s spot, “You boys drive safe.”

“You too, Bobby-!” Sam called, “And thanks-!”

When Bobby had pulled away from the gravel lot, CJ sat in silence beside him, her eyes on the rearview mirror connected to her door as she watched the Impala get smaller and smaller, the ache in her stomach twisting tighter and tighter. And it wasn’t an hour into their drive before the pain finally numbed, and her breath released in a relieved sigh.

_ Now it was time to get ready for her trip. _


	39. When Life Gives You Snickers

CJ exit the plane with a flip of her hair, spitting out a strand of brown that felt rebellious to the after-flight winds of the airport. People were pushing and shoving to get off when they could, but she had waited until the first class was near empty before making a move to leave.

* * *

_ ‘So this is where Holy Oil originated.. Gotta say, I’m kind of impressed..’ _

* * *

She let the small carry-on bag trail behind her, the little wheels loud against the notched tiles as she exit the loading dock, offering a slight smile to the stewardess who wished her a good day before returning her eyes to the stretch of ground in front of her. She needed to get her bags, all three of the large, heavy-ass cases. (The custom regulations for FBI agents was almost ridiculously flexible. But, she supposed that just made her job much easier.)

* * *

_ ‘So the oil is here.. And the flight out to Iraq is in a few days.. I should have plenty of time to talk to locals.. Get any info I might need..’ _

* * *

Her sunglasses slid over her eyes, hiding the harsh, icy hazel from view as she stood beside the rotating belt. When her three, carefully marked cases came into view, she took a moment with each to pull it up, and off, before securing it by her side.

* * *

_ ‘With all of these checked off on my list, I may as well check out any faith healers or hunters.. See if there’s any news or concerns going around..’ _

* * *

When she had all four items in her possession she tied the handles together with a bar, securing them in place with a padlock and getting behind the small train to push it toward the exit. She had a ride ordered from a chauffeur company that paid by the hour. She’d asked for extra hands as well, but she had no problem putting that bill on her “Job” tab.

* * *

_ ‘A left here- or was it a right.. Oh- wait- there’s the shop. Jeez, you’d think I’d be more mindful with the map in my hands.’ _

* * *

When she spot the sign labeled ‘Jordan’ held up in white gloved hands, a balding man who looked in his late forties stood straight by the passenger seat, his pristine chauffeur suit and cap neatly pressed and looking all for the role of a proper butler. She supposed, for the bright, honest smile he’d given her, she would be happy to tip well. Or, at least, she  _ thinks  _ she would.. Well, she would anyway.. She’ll worry about it later..

* * *

_ ‘Wow this place is spooky- and-.. Are.. are those wings..?’ _

* * *

Offering a small smile, she held up her FBI badge for the man to see, gesturing vaguely toward the sign he held and patting her cases with the other. “Agent Jordan. Nice to meet you. You must be.. Kent?”

“That’d be me,” he nodded, tucking the sign into the crease of his arm before moving to help her position the bags closer to the trunk, just as another man waved from his place near the driver’s side of the car, “This is George. You asked that we have two people for heavy lifting?” She nodded curtly, absently wondering if she would have, on a good day, returned the surprised, roving eyes of the mid-twenty-something male with thick, clearly toned arms and a good wave of black hair. She might have.. Oh well..  

* * *

_ ‘Blood.. So much blood.. Why is there so much blood.. No- no- I can get her to a hospital- I can-I-can-’ _

* * *

“I’ll take care of that, Miss,” George’s voice was pure silk, and cream, and she tilted her head a bit when he pointed toward the bag still clutched tightly in her hands. Releasing her grip, she held it out, features stony as he watched him flick his eyes across her expression before turning to place her bag in the back seat, and open the door with a polite gesture, “Here you are.”

* * *

_ ‘No-no, please don’t die- I just got you out of there- don’t- don’t die now-! Please don’t die now-! No-! NO-!’ _

* * *

She slid into the seat with a grace she’d never normally posses, her head ducking down to fit inside the car and relaxing when she’d finally felt leather beneath her pantsuit. She removed the glasses from her eyes, letting them rest atop her head as she turned her eyes up to the sky. It was getting chilly.

* * *

_ ‘You- you did this- you hurt her- you killed her- how could you do this- how could kill a little girl- HOWCOULDYOUHOWCOULDYOUHOWCOULDYOU-?!’ _

* * *

CJ sat up with a jerk when the car had stopped moving, the frames of her glasses having fallen over her face after she’d fallen asleep. She quickly folded the sides, letting them hang from her blazer pocket as she hurried to pull out her wallet. George opened her door so she could step outside, while Kent was in the midst of getting out her cases. George gave her a smile before moving to help, hurrying to the older man's side so they didn’t break their backs on their own.

* * *

_ ‘This-.. This is my fault, isn’t it-? I should have- I should have called an ambulance or something before I came in-’ _

* * *

Two crisp hundred dollar bills followed her hand as she pulled it back out, and she reached forward to hand one to each of the men when she’d seen them place the last case down. “Gentleman, thank you for your service.”

George looked quite surprised by the tip, but Kent had merely chuckled bashfully. “Thank you for your patronage, Miss. I hope you request the company again.”

“Make no mistake,” she smiled, nodding when they’d each taken a bill, “I’ll be sure to write you both a wonderful review. Good day.”

“Good day, Miss.”

“Have a good one, Miss.”

* * *

_ ‘It’s all your fault...’ _

* * *

CJ watched as they drove out of the salvage yard before she turned to walk up the steps, she would carry the cases in one at a time.

* * *

_ ‘You killed her.’ _

* * *

“Bobby, I’m home-!”

* * *

Robert Steven Singer eyed the brunette woman carefully as she flounced around the kitchen in a frilly blue apron, hopping from counter to counter to fix or mix different things. So far, he’d seen her make three pies, and two casseroles, not to mention what looked like another batch of steamed veggies. He raised his scotch to his lips, taking a sip as she worked, his eyes wandering to the cases that sat in the corner like a stack of Pandora boxes. She’d said only a few sentences. Her trip was great. She had no wounds. She’d gotten what she needed.

He didn’t want to ask, but he also didn’t want this to become a habitual thing.

The Winchester boys bottled enough crap up, he didn’t need _her_ doing it, too.

When he had finally finished his glass, psyching himself up to call her out, the phone rang. He cursed under his breath, reaching for the home phone and bringing it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Heya, Bobby, it’s Sam.”

“Heya, Sam,” he greeted quickly, flicking his eyes up to the kitchen, CJ had heard him, clearly by the way she had paused, but she had brushed it off immediately after and continued working without a hitch in her steps. “What’cha need?”

“I was wondering if CJ was back yet? Thought she might want to come back on a case..”

“Hang on a second,” he muttered, bringing the phone to his shoulder before raising his voice a bit, “CJ, boys wanna know if you’re up for hunting?”

“What’s today?” she asked without missing a beat, her fingers flickering over the last pie to add the chocolate shavings, not even taking the time to look over her shoulder toward the concerned man. “The twenty-fifth.”

“Sure, then,” she answered swiftly, setting the plastic over the masterpiece and pinching at the edges to seal it shut. She’d need to put it in the freezer. “How long till they get here?”

“How long will you be?” he brought the phone back up to his ear, eyebrows furrowing a bit at the sigh of relief Sam gave before he answered. “Just a few hours. Four if we stop for dinner.” “I think CJ’s got that covered,” he amended instead, watching the brunette untie her apron and begin to clean up her mess. “I saw at  _ least _ two things get put in that oven. Pretty sure one was a casserole and the other was pie.”

“You had me at oven,” Dean’s voice, a bit of distance from the receiver, made a smile flicker across the old hunters face, before he brushed it off, and shook his head. “Just get here safe.”

“Will do, Bobby.”

He hung up the phone, letting it fall back to it’s spot on his desk, and looked up to see CJ in the midst of cleaning the dirty dishes. From what he could see, everything else had already been wiped down. “The boys will be here in a few hours.”

“I can heat up their dinner, then,” her statement was as brisk as it had been earlier. He sighed, closing his eyes as he poured himself another scotch. 

“You got anything you want to tell me?”

She set the dripping plate down into the drying rack as she turned her head, giving him an expression of vague confusion. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“What happened on your trip?” he asked casually, swirling the contents of his glass when she had returned to her task, deeming eye-contact unimportant and hurrying to complete her chore. “I flew to Israel for the Holy Oil, found a Grigori and got it’s sword. Then I flew to Iraq for the Cypress branch in Babylon.”

“You found a Grigori,” he sat up quickly in his seat, nearly bursting to his feet as he got up to round his desk, “You fought a _ fallen angel _ ?”

“I swiped it’s sword and stabbed it,” she set the last bowl in the dryer and grabbed the small towel hanging on the oven door, relishing in the warmth it gave her damp hands. “For all it had done, the look on its face when its mojo was useless was worth the concussion from getting thrown out a window.”

“What else happened?” he huffed, leaning against the counter and giving her an almost grunge-looking stink-eye. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I saw no point,” she shrugged. “My injuries healed quickly and I had what I needed. Two of the three victims survived the drive to the hospital, I didn’t stay long after that. Then I went back to my hotel and packed for my flight the next morning.”

“You didn’t get into anymore fights, did you?” he grumbled.

“Just a bar fight with a couple of ballsy guys who got handsy,” she shrugged, “Apparently, if you’re a woman who shows anything more than her eyes, you’re automatically a prostitute in some areas.”

“Next time you leave the country, you’re taking someone with you,” he huffed, shaking his head slowly, “I trust you, I don’t trust other people.”

“Good to know,” she hummed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me want to write more. :P


	40. Chapter 40

Dean’s moan was the only other sound at the table other than the clicking of silverware and the crunch of food. “My God, I missed this.”

“We do  _ not  _ say Grace with my food,” CJ’s voice was cool, but calm. The boys had been there for a total of ten minutes, but she’d already set out the table and sat them down. She could feel the coil in her stomach gradually warming out of its icy chill, but it would be an hour or two for it to unravel. She would be patient, but for now, she wasn’t hungry. She could eat later. “Say Grace if you want to cook, keep that damned name out of your mouth over  _ my  _ hard work.”

“Sure thing, CJ,” Sam nodded, a smile on his lips when his brother had to wipe the cheese from his mouth in embarrassment. “So, no offense, but what  _ is _ this..?”

“Dorito Cream of Chicken bake,” she raised an eyebrow smiling at his wide-eyed blink and nodding toward his plate, “I steamed some veggies for you since I know you’d want some.”

“Thanks,” he nodded, smiling again when she had lifted her eyes, but letting the corners of his lips fall a bit at the sight of her empty plate. She’d only had a bit of chicken. “Aren’t you going to eat a bit more?”

“Jetlag,” she quipped.

“Oh,” he murmured, hesitating before returning to his food. She seemed content to simply sit at the table as the boys finished, Bobby having already eaten an hour or two ago. One of her legs was pulled up over the other politely and her hands were folded together on the table as her eyes closed. 

_ Dear Lucifer, I arrived home safely. I’m not sure if you care, and I’m nearly certain that you don’t, but I thought it would be polite to tell you. I hope your night is not too bad, where you are now, and I look forward to meeting you among the grass and sky. As always, CJ. _

“What’s up with you?” Dean’s voice broke her from her prayer, and she lowered her hands slowly as she looked up to him, he seemed a lot less angry, having come to terms with her involvement on their last shared case, and acknowledging that she had actually tried to take off some of the heat on him. “You seem spacy.”

“I was praying,” she shook her head, gesturing toward his nearly cleaned plate with a wave of her fingers, “There’s pie in the fridge for when you’re done. The cherry and the peach are finished, but the chocolate in the freezer is off limits until tomorrow. It needs to freeze overnight.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded, smiling a little towards her but letting it fall when she only gave him a slow, tired blink. “Hey, I gotta ask- you  _ have  _ been sleeping, right?” “Seven hours a night,” she nodded, flicking her eyes toward Sam, who was wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin she’d set out for each plate, “The visions weren’t as hard to deal with over my trip. A few here and there were a bit dicey, but overall I had no problems.”

“Good..” Dean nodded, clearing his throat a little as he returned his eyes to his plate, “That’s good.”

“CJ, you  _ are  _ sure you want to hunt with us, right?”

Sam’s question was hesitant, but it was honest, and CJ had to crane her neck a bit to look up at the tall, puppy-eyed brunette. “I told you, I get the day before Halloween and the day of, off, but otherwise, I’m up for riding with you. I want to help where I can.”

“Riiight,” Dean’s head perked up a bit, a smile curling across his lips as he looked over towards the woman slyly, “You have a date, don’t you?”

“I forgot about that,” Sam muttered under his breath, turning his eyes to CJ as well when she was silent, and giving both brothers an equally blank stare. “Yeah, I do. And his name is none of your business.”

“But seriously, do we know him?” Dean persisted, a bit of childish pep in his voice as he tired to keep the conversation going, “Is he a hunter? A civvi? Cop?”

“He’s a nunya,” she frowned. 

“A nun?” Dean seemed surprised at this, but Sam had already started smiling.

“No, a nunya,” she shook her head, her serious look betraying none of the joke. Dean looked confused, his expression twisting a bit as he tried to work out the occupation. “What the hell’s a nunya?”

“It’s  _ Nun  _ ya’ business.”

Sam chuckled a little, coughing to hide it when his brother had shot him a look, stuffing the last bit of chicken into his mouth before moving to get his plate. “Well, that was amazing, CJ, thank you for dinner.”

“Not an issue,” she shrugged, getting to her feet as well and plucking the plates from his hands as he moved toward the sink, “Go to bed. I can see the bags under your eyes. Take my bed if you need it, Bobby finally got the mattress I ordered in and it’s King sized.”

“I’m not taking your bed-” he stated, cutting into her path when she’d gotten to the sink and grabbing her shoulders to steer her away several long steps, “Nor am I letting you do the dishes. You cooked, you’re not cleaning, too.”

“You know, this is the type of flirting that I wouldn’t really mind,” she’d muttered it low enough under her breath that Dean hadn’t heard her from his place inside the fridge, pie hunting, but Sam had heard her just as well, his fingers flexing a bit over her jacket before slowly trailing down to rest on her upper arms, stopping them just at the edge of the living room.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, bending his head just enough so he could whisper into her ear, “And if you want, we could stay up after Dean and talk about your trip.”

“Yeah, no, too strong,” she lifted a hand to pat at his warm, gently massaging fingers, a smile in her voice as she felt the slightest bit of pressure start to unwind, “Couple steps back, Romeo. I still think your vision is shot and you’re tone deaf.”

“Alright, alright,” he lifted his hand in mock surrender, watching as she turned a bit to give him a small, gradual smile, “I won’t pester you anymore tonight.”

“Good,” she huffed, lifting her fist to mock-punch his shoulder, “Last chance, you want my bed? It’s memory foam.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, “You should go get some sleep, if the jet lag’s affecting you that badly.”

“I will, goodnight, Sam.”

He watched as she turned on her heel and walked toward the staircase, disappearing a few seconds later after a soft pattering of creaks. 

“Dude, are you seriously hitting on CJ?” Dean’s voice spooked him enough to jolt a bit, swinging his head around just in time to catch his brother’s disappointed frown, though it was quickly soothed by a slice of peach pie. A good few scoops of vanilla ice cream were right beside it on the plate, and he looked on the verge of recreating the audio file of a porn he’d watched recently. “Dean, really?”

“Seriously,” he talked through the bite, taking a few seconds to swallow and lick his lips clean before giving his brother another, identical look of sterness, “are you hitting on CJ?”

“What’s it matter?” he asked hesitantly, eyebrows shooting up at the ‘Really?’ look his brother shot him, “We’re both consenting adults.” Dean didn’t look any happier, his fork still lowered into his pie, and he had a sudden realization, “Wait a minute, do you-”

“No,” Dean cut him off almost sharply, and he shut his mouth at the actual glare in his brother’s eyes, though it faded after a few seconds, and he returned to his dessert with tiny bites, probably trying to make it last. “God, no. I wouldn’t even attempt that. I’m surprised you actually have the guts to.”

“What’s wrong with flirting with CJ?” he huffed, his hands lifting up a bit as he tried to make sense of his brother’s statement, “Dude, we’re adults, if she wants to-”

“No, Sam,” he cut him off again, and he had to bite his tongue before he raised his voice, he didn’t know if CJ would be able to hear them from her room, the house  _ was _ pretty old and thin, “I don’t think you understand why that is a bad idea.”

“Then explain it to me, Dean,” he encouraged in a lifted voice, darting his eyes back to the staircase to be sure he hadn’t said it too loud. 

“We hurt her, Sam.”

The words were like a bucket of ice water for both of them, and their expressions nearly matched with the stone that levelled their features. Dean, after a few seconds to let his brother think that through, continued, “Look, I know she’s.. She’s something, she’s something we’ve never dealt with, and she’s enough to keep us on our toes, but man.. We’re not good for her.. Not in the least.. You, of  _ all  _ people, should know that. You went to  _ Stanford  _ to get away from all of this, and we,  _ you and me _ , we dragged her into this by her pigtails, kicking and screaming. And that’s on us.”

Sam wanted to say she was here by choice, but the immediate reminder that she  _ wasn’t _ had the words dying on his tongue, instead, he defended himself with a simple, “Isn’t it her choice what she does with her life, as she has it now? I don’t see the problem in flirting with her, Dean.”

“Flirt, fine,” Dean set down his plate before sitting in his chair, and Sam knew that Dean had lost the will to actually have that argument. Come to think of it, it was hard even talking about her on the road during their trip, her name nearly taboo at some points when they briefly wondered how the pull was affecting her. “Just.. don’t get hurt, and don’t hurt her. It’s awkward enough as it is, now. Don’t make it worse.”

“If she tells me to, I’ll back off,” Sam assured him quietly, looking over the pile of dishes and sucking in a deep breath, “...I’ll clean up dinner.”

* * *

CJ hummed softly as she twirled around the kitchen, the scent of pancakes and fruit wafting around the home incentive to leave the warmth of a bed. She spun from counter to table with each plate, singing softly and rocking her hips from side to side in rhythm as she echoed the prayer to her currently-caged bullet point of things to heal-and-or-fix.

_ “When you’re left in isolation, there’s a simple explanation- _

_ You’re filled with Determination, trapped deep hidden from the sun. _

_ And however we perceive it, know that we must be resilient, _

_ Can you hear this? Listen angel, to our hearts beating as one.” _

As she set out the last of the food, she hopped up to get the plates, her hips swaying as she dipped a bit with the music pouring from the headphones around her neck, giving the kitchen a bit of a tune from the loud volume, “ _ Back when I was weak and small, the promise of freedom burned down my walls. So I trained each day, getting stronger yet. Burned some bridges down, which I don’t regret _ .” She plucked open the cutlery cabinet, slipping the forks and knives from their slots and popping her hip to the beat as she shimmied in place, “ _ I quickly learned the rules down here- I had to fight, to persevere, Another human life- that’s the last and final price, only if you would give up your soul _ -”

She spun in place when she’d set them out, moving to straighten everything to almost a microscopic level of evenness, “ _ When your morals have been tangled, and your love ones have been mangled, only your soul’s left to dangle in some demon’s dirty hands. Though the battle may feel wild, I will try to help this child, I won’t let this planet suffer we are going to be free _ .”

For the intermission, she swung her body from side to side, shaking her hips and twisting around the table in a move reminiscent of her dancing days, all liquid silk and light ballet. Her eyes remained locked on the table, however, wary of the food, dishes, and vase of fresh flowers she had gone to pick from the surrounding woods that morning. Slowly as the intermission ended, she pulled out a chair, slowly sinking into it as she sang, leaning backward in grief with her arm pulled over her eyes.

“ _ All I see is devastation, our world torn by your destruction. Even now my body weakens but I still refuse to die _ .” Her body slowly sat forward, eyes closed lightly as she brought her hands in prayer over her heart, her head hanging in theatrical grief, “ _ I was everyone’s last chance, they tried to kill you at first glance. Guess my time has finally ended. Thank you angel, and goodbye _ .”

“Wow, breakfast and a show-”

“ _ Mother fucker-!” _

CJ hit the floor with a screech, limbs scrambling to get her back up at the sound of choked laughter form the doorway. Both Sam and Dean stood huddled in the entrance, Dean openly laughing as he covered his mouth while Sam tried to hold it back with coughs.

“You two are  _ assholes _ ,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing sharply at them when her face had gone bright red, real quick, “I should deny you my wonderful pancakes for that out of principle-!”

“What did you two idjits do? It’s not even eight o’clock, yet,” Bobby’s gruff, annoyed voice caused both boys to straighten up real quick, stepping aside to allow the house owner through and take a seat at the end of the table with a sigh. He ran a hand down his face, the Winchester brothers blinking slowly when CJ had bolted to her feet and dove for the doorway, snatched the paper from the table and rushed back to Bobby’s side, setting it down silently beside his elbow and grabbing the mug beside the coffee maker, pouring it out and adding two sugars and a spot of cream. She set it quietly beside his other elbow, ignoring Sam and Dean’s puzzlement as the clockwork continued, Bobby moving to fix both his plate and CJ’s while CJ set out the fruit he wanted within reaching distance before sitting across the table at the opposite end.

“You yahoos just gonna stand there, or are you gonna eat?”

Dean was the first to snap out of it and plop into his seat at the table, watching Bobby hand over CJ’s plate and move to turn the newspaper over to read it, lifting up his coffee with his free hand and a murmured, “Thank you.”

“No problem, Bobby,” CJ grinned, the coldness of the day before entirely gone, and a pleasant warmth curling where the frost had been. “Is there anything else on my baby that needs done before she’s painted?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, his nose scrunching up as he re-read a line over, setting his mug on the table and bringing the paper closer to read, “Finished her up while you were gone, figured you want to do that when you got back.”

“Aww, Bobby,” she sounded near close to tears as she got up from her seat, scurrying around Sam, who had decided to sit down, and pulling the eldest hunter into a tight hug, “Thank you-!” He grunted a bit, lifting his hand to pat her arm before she laughed and hurried to sit back down, “I gotta eat quick-! The sooner I paint her, the sooner she’ll be ready for the road.”

Dean and Sam flicked their eyes back and forth between the two, slowly eating their own portions while CJ finished in a flash and put her things in the sink, rinsing them off quickly before moving to go towards the stairs. “I’ll be down in a click-! Just gotta change-!”

Dean cleared his throat loudly when the woman had disappeared, Sam raising his eyebrows when Bobby had looked up from his paper, the small smile on his lips disappearing as if it were never there. “What? You got somethin’ to say?”

“Nope,” Dean shook his head, stuffing a bite of pancakes into his mouth, effectively cutting himself out of the situation and returning to his food. Sam smiled a little bit, and shook his head, the peanut butter banana pancake toppings one of the best ways to start the morning.

“Nah, you make a good Dad, though.”

“Raised you little hooligans, didn’t I?” the man muttered under his breath, the boys smiling a bit before returning to the peaceful quiet. It was only a half minute later that CJ came barreling down the steps and darting through the kitchen to put a notebook at Bobby’s elbow, where the paper had been at first, “Here’s the list of codes for the cases. Open them if you’d like. If you know anyone that can make scabbards that’d be pretty awesome, too.”

“I’ll ring a few bells,” he nodded absently, looking over the array of numbers when she’d nodded, giving a two finger salute before jogging to go out the front door, “See you at lunch-!”

Dean licked his lips when she was completely out of sight, both brothers sending Bobby a smug smile when he had been caught smiling again.

“Oh, shut up.”

He let the paper shut with a snap, and pointed at the sub article on the side. “There’s been some reported hauntings a couple hours out, think you can manage on your own for the day? CJ seems a little occupied.”

“We can head back straight after checking it out, I don’t think she’d mind too much,” Sam nodded, looking toward his brother for approval, and nodding again when he wordlessly received it with a grin. “Alright, we should be back by dinner, then.”

“You boys best watch your damn backs,” his warning was gruffer than usual, his eyes a bit more sharp, “Try not to get thrown around too much.”

“Yeah, we’ve been keeping that to a minimum,” Dean nodded firmly, the unspoken warning making both boys stiffen and lower their heads a bit in childlike acquisition. 

“Good. Now eat up, and get gone.”

“Yes, Bobby.”

* * *

“She’s so pretty~!”

CJ was splayed lovingly over the hood of her car, tracing invisible hearts over the sleek finish as she pressed her cheek to the radiant blue beast. The art that completed this gorgeous royal blue piece of machinery was a brighter, sky and powdery blue, gradually dissolving flames as it raced up the hood and along both sides of the body.

Fucking gorgeous..

“You put  _ flames  _ on a sixty-nine Camaro-? Are you insane-?” Dean’s voice echoed through the painting shed, “And it’s  _ blue- _ !”

“Smite me, Winchester-!” She snapped, curling protectively against the hood as she shimmied up to splay herself along it, her upper back resting on the clear windshield glass and her eyes closing, “My baby, my pick. Her name will be Cleopatra.”

“Are you serious?”

Dean didn’t even have words for how ridiculous she was being, more so caught up in watching her crawl all over the beast she’d spent the previous two days painting. Maybe he would have been less distracted if he hadn’t noticed her short-cut jean shorts or the tattoo peeking out from her bright green tank top, the one he’d first noticed in the Pennsylvania Monster-movie case.

Upon closer inspection, in full view, it was an anti-possession symbol, adorned with big, bright gold wings, with ribbons, and what looked like tiny bits of candy unravelling around it.

Why the Hell..

He didn’t know why that was as hot as it was..

“-Cleo for short,” he zoned back in just as she had reached the top of her baby, spinning around to hug the machine from above with the most awe-struck look of adoration in her eyes. “She’s such a badass.. I love her so much..”

“Okay, okay,” Dean walked closer to the car, lifting a hand in a gesture for her to hurry up, “You had your fun, now get down before you break something. Like a bone.”

“You are such a buzzkill,” the woman scoffed, listening with a roll of her eyes as she slid off the car on the passenger side and skipped up to stand beside him. She folded her arms behind her back, leaning back with her weight on her heels as she admired her car from this angle, eyes shining in delight as she leaned her head against Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for helping fix her up. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart, at least now you can put that bike up,” he chuckled.

“You’re just mad you can’t fit in the sidecar,” she shot him a smirk.

“Yeah. Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. A ringing sound in his pocket disrupted their banter, and he glanced at CJ before flipping open his phone and bringing it to his ear. “Sam, what’s up?”

“We got a case. Man swallows several razor blades after eating halloween candy. More than one was reported in his system. He’s middle-class, with a wife and a baby. He doesn’t sound much like someone who’d off themself.”

“Then let’s get packed and take a look.”

“We got a case?” CJ raised an eyebrow, eyes lighting up like stars when she glanced at her baby. Was it time?

“Yep, get your stuff, we leave in-”

“WOOHOOHOOOOOO-!!!!” 


	41. Chapter 41

CJ grinned as she coasted down the highway behind the Impala, windows rolled down and letting her hair whip wildy behind her seat.

_ “Oooooh~! _ ”

She reached her hand over, turning up the dial loud enough so that it reached twenty six.

_ “Oooooh~!” _

Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel, shoulders bobbing with the beat as it echoed through her awesome sound system.  _ Thank you Bobby-!! _

“ _ Uptown girl~! She’s been living in her Uptown world-! I bet she never had a backstreet guy~! I bet her mama never told her why~! I’m gonna try- For an Uptown girl~! _ ”

With only the best renditions of Glee in the disk she had burned, she knew she had done well to broaden her music choices.

There was mullet rock, for when Dean was stuck in her car, “modern”, country, and different disks for musicals. She had also purchased audiobooks to listen to along their inevitable long drives.

The drive was much shorter than she thought it would be.

She agreed, after much reluctance, that she would leave her car in the motel lot, changing into her pantsuit and pinning her hair up before climbing into the Impala with the boys. “Don’t you two look spiffy.” 

“Cleo’s not going to die if we leave her in the lot, CJ,” Dean droned, seeing the saddened look she had shot the car as they pulled away. “Who’s Cleo?” Sam asked suddenly, looking between the two when CJ perked up, leaning over the seat to give him a bright grin, “My baby girl, Cleopatra. I’m thinking of putting in a gold leather lining inside, your thoughts?”

“Leave it black,” Dean denied swiftly, his eyes darting between street signs as he searched for the exact house, “Harder to see the bloodstains that way.”

“Damn,” she murmured, sighing in defeat and conceding with a nod, “Alright, I’ll sacrifice aesthetics for practicality on this one.”

“Why did you name your car Cleopatra?” Sam sounded confused.

“Because she’s a badass?” She stated, as if it were the most natural thing, “Plus  _ gorgeous as fuck _ and fit for a queen?”

“Solid reasoning.”

* * *

“So a witch.”

“Mhmm,” CJ nodded, puckering her lips in the reflection of the mirror, glaring darkly down at the shopping cart she’d roped Dean into grabbing for her. There was a storage tub inside, and she’d filled up the entire tub with every chocolaty thing she had found in the department store. When Dean had asked her why, she merely said, “I thought I get the day before, and the day of Halloween, off? I made this point very clear.”

“So, what, you’re not helping us on this?” He sounded rightfully annoyed, but the glare she had shot him was enough for him to catch his tongue. 

“I didn’t say that. I just need left alone for tonight, and most of tomorrow. I have things I need to do, Dean, I am not going to bend on this.”

“It’s almost Halloween,” Dean pointed out when he’d stopped the cart, effectively stopping her as well when she had gone ahead. She doubled back, then, sucking in the corner of her bottom lip when he had glared at her, “Generally this is the time black magic is most used..”

“One, I use  _ white  _ magick,” her quip was emphasized by a swat to the buff of his arm, “So shut up. Two, I have no intention of performing anything human or demon involved. Like I told you, I’m going on a date.”

“With what, a witch?” he muttered, lowering his voice at the sight of the small children further up the aisles as they played with leftover pieces of costumes. He kept his voice firm, while keeping his head near her’s to make sure they weren’t overheard, “CJ, people are dying right now, and I don’t know about you, but if you have anything to say to make this easier, I’m all for it.” Her eyes burned into his, and they held each others gazes for several long seconds, before she’d bent at the waist a bit, plucking two, non distinct skeleton masks from the nearly empty shelves.

“Castiel is coming, and he’s bringing a friend,” She tossed the two masks inside, shooting him a look when he opened his mouth, and speaking quickly to cut him off, “His name is Uriel. Do not trust him. But be wary. Make sure he doesn’t know that you aren’t distrusting of him. Be mean all you want, just don’t let your suspicion show. There’s two witches, one is a cheerleader, the other is an art teacher, he keeps infant bones in his bottom desk drawer, they’re charred from the art room kilns, and the drawer is locked with a padlock. When you get to the school tomorrow, do not look at the ceiling. You’ll.. You’ll  _ remember _ .. They made freaky masks and some of them are..”

“Remember,” he scoffed, his eyes narrowing when she held her tongue, “Remember what, exactly?”

“Hell, both being tortured,” she lifted her eyes up to his, again, and he felt his muscles grow freezing in a matter of seconds, “And when  _ you _ did it.”

“You-”

“Yes, I know,” she cut him off sharply, seeing the bob of his adam’s apple and walking forward until she was at his side again, making slow, visible movements for him to see that she was reaching up to touch his shoulder, directly over where the hook had been. “I know, Dean, not all of it, only.. Only what you tell Sam in the future.. Only what you remember in flashes.. But.. I’m not disgusted.. I’m not angry.. And deny it all that you like, but it will never be your fault that you did those things- Do not  _ ever _ , and I mean  _ ever _ , tell me otherwise, because, out of the two of us, I think I would  _ know _ .”

“..I don’t believe you..” 

His voice, once stern, and biting from their conversation, had gone choked, and raspy as the words left his tongue. “How.. how am I supposed to believe that..?”

“You will one day,” she sighed softly, turning to grab the masks from the cart and show them on display, “These are what you need to wear when you confront the witches. They’ll be at the third sacrifice, and they’ll try to trick you. Don’t trust the cheerleader, shoot her immediately. Okay?”

“But what if-”

“You solve the case, and save a lot of people,” She cut him off again, and he closed his mouth when she had brought her hand away from his shoulder and rested it at the bar of the cart, where his hands had fisted so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. “I saw you do it. Just.. play along.. Don’t hesitate to enter the art teacher’s house, okay? On Halloween, do not hesitate to get there, and make sure that you wear the masks. That is a life or death detail that Sam came up with on the spot..”

“Alright.”

“Good. Ready to head back?”

“Think you’ve got enough candy?” his voice was still raspy, and his eyes still clouded, but his mouth had tugged up a bit, and his hands had relaxed beneath hers.

“Doubtful,” she sighed, shaking her head before she turned to walk towards the checkout counters, “I just hope that I remembered to pack my costumes before we left Bobby’s.”

“You’re wearing a costume?”

“ _ Costumes _ , plural. Be prepared. I take Halloween incredibly seriously.”

* * *

“Heya Sam,” CJ greeted the taller of the Winchesters upon their arrival back to the hotel room, “We’re back from the store.” Dean waltzed in behind her, carrying a large, yellow storage tote that looked nearly overflowing with unopened bags of candy. He was glaring down at the sweets petulantly, likely due to the fact that he’d been forbidden to have any without expressed permission. “Jeez, you get enough,” Sam muttered, eyebrows flicking up when his brother had set the heavy tote down on the table and trudged over to get a beer.

“Dean has his own, he’s just being dramatic,” CJ called from the bathroom, stepping out briefly so she could throw her jacket over her bag, then return to her task, “That’s all for my date.”

“He’s coming here?” Sam sounded more surprised than he’d meant to, both brothers sharing a disgruntled glance when she’d only sang a bright, cheery, “Uh-huh-! Not the motel room, but two towns over-! Hopefully-!” 

“So you might get stood up,” Dean muttered under his breath, following the statement with a swig of beer when his brother had shot him a look of disapproval. Rolling his eyes, he nodded toward the bag torn apart on the table, his head tilting as he examined the pieces a bit closer. “So, find anything interesting?”

“Well,” he sighed, turning back in his seat to run his fingers through the herb he’d collected from the hexbag, “we’re on a witch hunt, that’s for sure, but this..” He slid the rough brown fabric over a few inches on the table so his brother could have a better view, “-isn’t your typical hex bag.”

“No?” Dean murmured, skillfully unwrapped a piece of chocolate from the stash he’d gotten at the store, using his own funds, so CJ wouldn’t be able to commandeer it. 

“Goldthread,” Sam lifted the light yellow coil from the fabric, holding it up for him to see, “An herb that’s been extinct for two hundred years, and this..” he set the herb down, before picking up the coin, “Is Celtic, not even some new-age knock off. It looks like the real-deal, like 600-years-old real. And  _ that,  _ is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby.”

“Oh gross,” Dean’s face screwed up in disgust, and he frowned as he let the small bone fall back to the table with a soft click.

“Relax, man,” Sam huffed, a faint, humorless smile on his lips. “It’s at least a hundred years old.”

“Oh right, like that makes it better,” the rage in his tone was simmering, but Dean punctuated his scoff with a sip of his beer, “Witches, man. So frickin’ skeevy. This- this is why I’m worried about CJ, alright-?”

“Yeah, well, it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together,” Sam arranged all of the bag’s contents back together, turning his head over to Dean as he got up to move to a chair further away from the offending items, “More juice than we’ve ever dealt with, that’s for sure. What about you, you and CJ find anything on our victim?”

“This Luke Wallace?” Dean scoffed, eyebrows raised in his done-ness as he shook his head, “He was so vanilla, that he made vanilla seem spicy.” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit before returning his gaze to his brother, the elder Winchester’s eyes glazed with a sordid, frustrated lack of understanding.

“I can’t find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead..”

“The witches are brother and sister, both over six hundred years,” CJ poked her head out of the bathroom at that moment, both men flicking their eyes up quickly and widening at the sight of her just in a towel, her hair pinned up and relatively dry, “Lilith assigned them to break a seal. They’re going to raise Samhain. Three sacrifices, the brother will turn on his sister, and she will be intended as the last sacrifice, but you show up, shoot him, and let her out, thinking she was a victim, and she turns on you, knocking you out-down, whatever, before letting her brother be the final sacrifice, Samhain possess his meatsuit, he goes to the cemetery, traps a bunch of teenagers in a crypt, sets zombies and ghosts loose, one kid gets eaten- just.. Stop him before all that.. If you can.. In fact, it’s best you got to the cemetery  _ now _ and disable the crypt gate locks. That way he can’t trap them in. The timeline  _ does _ still have to stay intact. Just be sure you wear your masks.”

“So you’ve seen this,” Sam had sat up eagerly at the mention of the demonic woman, eyes burning with fire and hatred and excitement all rolled into one, “Will  _ she  _ be here?”

“No,” CJ’s statement but a slight damper on him, but the mere thought of ruining her plans was enough to brighten him back up, “Alright, what first? You said masks.”

“Do all the research you can on Samhain,” she answered instead, giving the boys both a glare before she turned to go back into the bathroom, “You solved it on your own. I’m not supposed to be here. I’ve helped you cheat as much as I can, I..” she stopped herself from talking, taking a deep breath in, then out, before returning to the bathroom. “I’ll get dressed and head out. You can do this on your own. You did it before.”

“CJ,” Dean’s mouth had gone dry when she had grabbed the edge of the door, turning her head a bit toward him when he looked pointedly toward the tacky decor, and dropped his gaze to his beer with a clear of his throat. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until it’s over, and about the other guy I mentioned who will visit you, soon? Sam can deal with a bit of a character shock on his own.”

“Gotcha.”

“Wait, what?” Sam protested, swinging his eyes from the now closed door and his thoughtful-looking older brother, “What was that about? What ‘other guy’?”

“You’ll like it, I guess,” Dean sniffed, moving to unwrap another piece of candy as he spoke, “Think of it as a learning experience.” He pat Sam’s back firmly, before going to get another beer.

* * *

“Holy- CJ what the Hell are you  _ wearing- _ ?!” Dean had shot up to his feet a few seconds after the door had opened, Sam looking over in surprise before the phone in his hand clattered limply to the table. What the-..  _ What _ ?

“My first costume, this is for my date,” she shrugged, running a hand over the creamy white colored skirt that just skimmed about thigh, letting the pleats lie flat as she looked back up toward them and leaning a leg out to show off her strappy black knee-high boots with the right amount of heel. “I liked the boots.”

“Who are you supposed to be, exactly,” Dean tilted his head to the side as he took in the rather provocative outfit, the small, light purple corset with four gold buttons that showed off her belly button to the top of the nine-inch maximum skirt.  She wore a dark plum colored waistcoat, and a neon green bow tie around her neck, a light caramel-colored hat on a headband sitting atop her now wavy, chocolate-curled hair that fell over one shoulder. There was a cane in her hand, and Sam could only wonder why the Hell she would go on a date with someone she might not really even know dressed like a piece of candy..

“I’m Willy Wonka, the original,” she grinned, flashing her pearly white teeth, and tapping the end of her cane to the box of candy bags. She would empty that in a minute, “That’s part of the charm.”

“You look like a candy stripper,” Dean defended himself quickly when she shot him a look, raising his hands in immediate surrender, “No offense.”

“Well, if you like it, he surely will,” She lit up a bit at the mere thought, a brightness coming to her eyes that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago, “I really can’t wait. I’ve been anxious about it going well..”

“Just.. we’re still on a case, so..” Sam spoke up, fingers fumbling to pick his phone back up before shaking his head to clear it, then physically clearing his throat, disrupting his brothers not-so-subtle staring at the woman lost in thought, “Just be sure to keep your ringer on. We might need to get a hold of you for an emergency..”

“Will do, Lucky,” she grinned, clicking her fingers in a snap and ending with a finger gun, “But If it goes to voicemail after four rings, don’t call back.”

“So.. you might not come back tonight- can.. Can you really even do that without.. Pain..?” Dean’s question was met with a look of confusion, and she rolled her eyes heavenward before shaking her head, “It’s a spiritual discomfort, not a physical one, and I don’t start loosing my personality until about two days in.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.. be safe..?”

It sounded more like an unsure question, and CJ couldn’t help but smile at the lost, uncertain look on the older Winchester’s face. He really was worried. Popping herself up on her tiptoes, she planted a quick, light kiss on his cheek before popping back again to her heels, humming a bit as she went to kneel over by the tub of candy bags, using her nails to tear them open and fill the bucket again, bag by bag. “I’ll be careful, Dean. I promise.”


	42. Chapter 42

Cleo purred as she slid into the drive of the abandoned warehouse CJ had done excessive work to find. She would summon him around nine, and it was nearing three, so she had plenty of time to set up warding for silence. Not to mention, she also had to set up the actual symbols to summon him, as a pagan god, rather than an angel, even  _ if _ that would have been a lot easier..

Setting the heavy storage tub on the cement, she pulled the broom and dustpan from the back seat, as well as a few trash bags.

By four o’clock everything was dusted, and she would be able to draw on the floor, setting aside her tools and tossing the trash into a stray pile in one of the overflowing corners. Hurrying back to the car, she retrieved chalk, the bowl she needed, and any ingredients that had been listed. Candles, herbs.. She had the sweets ready- her offering.. Now she just had to spend an hour drawing that eyesore of a symbol.

* * *

CJ let a moan of relief leave her lips when the chalk clattered to the floor, ever so tempted to fall face-first into a bed, but unwilling to get up, quite yet. The candles were arranged, lines drawn, holy oil lied out for emergency.. Open space cleaned for the two of the four portable lawn chairs she’d bought for travel.

Not to mention a nice bottle of vodka, whip cream, a shaker, ice and lots of sweet things she’d been keeping in a cooler after running to the store.

When all was said and done, she looked toward the time displayed on her phone, nearly laughing aloud in disbelief at the sight of three minutes left.

Standing quickly, she brushed off her knees, moving quickly to wipe her hands, face, and skin of any dirt or dust. She fixed her hair, and re-donned her hat, grabbing the book of matches from atop her offering pile and hurrying to light the candles.

Thirty seconds..

She carefully got to her knees in front of the ritual, closing her eyes and resting her hands in a prayer position over her heart.

Twenty..

She took a deep breath in, then out, focussing all of her stress, and anxiety into one, compressed ball, before letting it all out in one breath.

Ten..

She took a second to fix her hair, briefly checking her reflection in the bronze bowl before nodding firmly, psyching herself up one last time.

_ And if all else fails, if I get the  **real** Loki and not the angel one, maybe I can just ask  **him** to contact the angel for me.. _

Now.

“ _ Vi kallar den I grön att komma fram och ses. Var långt eller var nära, Ta med oss tricksteren, Loki, här. _ ”

It was silent, and she sucked in a breath, prying her eyes open and flicking them around the room. There was nothing out of place, and nothing different. Frowning, she bit her lip, glancing toward the translation near her right knee and bending down a bit to pick it up, “I was sure I said it right..?”

“Woooww.. Not often I get summoned _these_ days..”

“Oh-  _ Lollipops-!”  _ Her squeal was interrupted by a jolt, and she spun on her heel to look behind her, seeing a man with dirty blonde hair, a wine purple silk shirt, slim black pants, shiny black shoes, and a killer, curious smile, that made his whiskey colored eyes shine even brighter.

_ Or maybe that was the giANT ASS FUCKING WINGS- _

_ Well  **that** saved a game of telephone.. _

She gulped quickly, seeing the looming golden beasts that shimmered behind him, forcing her eyes shut when he had looked confused and taking a large, deep breath, before letting it out slowly. “Forgive me.. I’m incredibly _nervous_ right now..”

“First summons?” he chuckled, tilting his head almost playfully as his eyes narrowed, she scuffed her shoe a little, her head ducking a bit low as she tried to battle the urge to walk up to him and pinch his cheeks. He wasn’t exactly pro-human right that minute. She had other things to do, first and foremost.

“I have candy.”

“You might want to start with that next time,” he actually laughed at that, and she let out the most relieved breath she could manage before motioning to the two chairs she’d brought. “Um, I.. kind of need to talk to you.. It’s.. not going to be quick.. I understand if you’re busy bringing justice elsewhere, but..”

“I got some time,” he shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows when he could see the flush on her face clearly. She looked flustered, despite the short skirt and the pressed waistcoat. “Willy Wonka?”

“You have taste,” she flashed him a grin then, and he could see a spark of something else. He was wary of this human, curious, too, but mostly wary, though she didn’t need to know that. He couldn’t sense her, at all, and he’d need to know why.

It was in his nature to be nosy, anyhow.

With a click of his fingers, they were both seated where the two chairs had been, although when they had actually sat down, the two cheap trinkets were replaced with wingback leather seats, and the tub of candy was presented in front of the now lounging angel. “So,  _ Lollipop _ ,” he popped the ‘p’ with a sly smile, watching as she eyed her new position with nothing short of stunned awe. “Whatcha’ call me for?”

“Uhm..” she gulped a bit, keeping her eyes shut as she threaded her fingers together in her lap, keeping her back straight and her head lowered, “This will be really painful to say.. I would.. _Appreciate_.. You staying to hear  _ all _ of it..”

“Well don’t bury the lead,” he made a gesture with his hand, plucking a snickers bar from the top of the filled tub and unwrapping it with a twist of fingers, “I’m all ears.”

“I’m from a different dimension and I know about the Apocalypse.”

The wrapper tore, and the ethereal being blinked slowly as he caught the chocolate dipped treat from falling in his lap, his smile dimmer, and his eyes now cold as he stared at the woman in front of him. “And I am here, _why_?”

“Ahm-.. because..” she lifted her eyes from her lap, blinking slowly as she lifted a hand to point over his shoulder, “I don’t want the messenger of God to be kidnapped and tortured for many centuries after faking his death.. twice..?”

He was quite, simply staring at her, his smile entirely gone as the chocolate began to melt between his fingers, she took this moment to start talking, speaking quickly in an effort to keep herself from stuttering or backing down. “I’m a sort of prophet- not one assigned by God- because as far as I can tell, I don’t have an archangel security detail. And there’s already an active prophet as we speak. I’m in the process of averting the Apocalypse with the two vessels, though they don’t  _ know _ that they’re  _ the _ vessels, and I’m kind of in a position that I can’t be away from them for more than two days without gaining symptoms of having a lack of soul. I was in a looney bin a few months after I came to this world, where it was the year twenty eighteen, and I was transported here just shy of two thousand and five. I had no idea what was going on until I met the righteous man- or found his grave- and before you ask, _yes_ , it was the righteous man who shed blood in Hell. He’s topside right now, and working through some PTSD with his brother who is an absolute moron, and I’m not in any way going to take them off of their course because I  _ know _ that they avert the Apocalypse, even after angel intervention, even after  _ you _ intervene, even after the demons and the heartache- and even when Lucifer takes his true vessel, and is overpowered, then thrown back into the cage, dragging Michael, and his current vessel with him. This does not end well, and it’s the _shitstorm_ that brings a plethora of  _ more _ shitstorms and it gets to the point where there’s a war in heaven, Leviathans are released from Purgatory, a knight of Hell shows up, the mark of Cain is transferred, along with the first blade, another war in heaven among all of the angels, who fall from it, Death is killed and the Darkness is released.”

She finally fell silent, panting for breath as she stared at the man sitting in front of her with a blank, unreadable expression on his face, when he remained silent, she swallowed, sucking in a sharp breath and giving him her best, pleading look, “I don’t trust you as a person, yet, not now, without the influence of a couple of boys, but I know I do care about you.. A lot.. And.. after the Darkness.. More crap comes.. And it comes to light.. That sometime after the war in heaven.. You’re brought to Hell.. and tortured.. With the intent of being used as a weapon for an archangel blade.. I.. I don’t want people to suffer- even now, I’m doing what I must to minimize death while keeping the inevitability of the Apocalypse alive for both demons and angels.. I know going against both of them is downright stupid, so it has to happen, but the fight will not. Lucifer will be freed, that is inevitable, but so is the influence of the vessels. They will not stand down to allow the world to be destroyed. They aren’t like that. And I admire them, care for them, even. And I will stand by them to help where I can. But I can’t do this alone, the interventions, I mean, and I need small problems fixed, before anything else can happen..”

It was silent for a full ten minutes, and the angel grunted, sitting up out of his slouch and letting out a long, drawn-out groan as he brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down. He stilled then, pulling his hand away from his skin and looking down at the melted remains of chocolate covering his fingers.

“Ahm- Gabriel.. You’ve..” he slowly looked up toward the woman’s quiet words, his eyes narrowed, but cool, not cold or angry, and his shoulders wound, but brought in. He was trying to think this through. “You’ve got a little..” her fingertip lightly tapped the side of her face, and she made the vague motion of it covering a good portion of his face. Unable to snap with the mess on his fingers, he started licking away the sweet treat, savoring the familiar delicacy as he closed his eyes, working through every word and pause she had told him with rapid, acute clarity. There was a lot he didn’t know, a lot of details he needed, and a good deal of issue with what she could  _ want _ from him.

The Darkness.. He was floored enough by that.. Not even the first bible covered such a dangerous, twisted evil that existed before everything but God and Death. So how would a human know about it. Unless she really was a prophet- no, maybe an oracle? But, then how did that explain the dimension jumping or the time traveling..?

“Say I believed you,” he hummed, letting his now clean hand rest on the handle of his chair as he leaned forward. “Why would you call me out, huh? Out of all the people you could have called.”

“Because you eventually care as much about humanity as we do..”

* * *

CJ knocked on the motel room door late the next morning. There was no ache, no chill, and no pain, only a vague, distant tugging that came into focus only when she took a moment to look for it. When Sam had opened the door, she gave the boys a wide, happy smile, a glow in her eyes that meant much more than it let on. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he nodded, fixing the woman with a smile as his eyes darted up and over her, seeing the comfy black sweatpants and the long hooded sweatshirt spilling over her body almost falling to her knees. He hadn’t seen that one before. “Did you have fun?”

“Yep,” she popped the ‘P’ when she spoke, a smile curling across her lips as she shut the door behind her and stepped inside, letting the duffel she’d brought from the car hit the floor beside the couch before she plopped down herself, stretching up and out like a cat before draping herself over the arm of it with a sweet, closed-eyed smile, “Oh, boy.. _Did_ I..”

“Well.. there was another murder last night,” Sam began filling her in quickly, reaching to pull out the seat near the table, then, thinking better of it, moved to sit on the couch beside her, just on the opposite side. “It was a girl, at a halloween party. She was drowned to death in a boiling tub for a bob-for-apples game.”

“Did you see a hot blonde chick in a cheerleaders costume?”

“Dean definitely did,” Sam muttered, a roll of his eyes accompanying the words as his eyes narrowed, and his back tensed, “Wait- was she-”

“A-yep.”

“Why didn’t you tell us-?” he demanded quickly, turning toward her fast enough that she felt the breeze of his arm as it shot to the back of the couch, steadying him as he nearly hovered over her side, “We could have-”

“First thing-” she shot out her hand, poking him in the nose and watching as he leaned back in surprise, “There are two of them, both old and superpowered, like I told you, already. Secondly, I repeat,  _ I told you already _ .”

Sam’s lips pressed firmly together, and his eyes flicked back toward the front door, Dean was still out staking the Wallace’s place, wouldn’t be back for a while, at least. He rolled a few questions around in his head, before settling on a few, and flicking his eyes back to CJ, who had pressed herself away from him enough that she curled up in the corner of the couch, eyeing him with undisguised suspicion.

“What?” he found himself asking.

“Why do you have your ‘fuck-me’ face on?” her blunt question caught him off guard enough that he felt felt the hinge on his jaw loosen when she pointedly looked him up and down, then rolled her eyes, “Dude, I’ve seen you at your worst, and most manipulative, I  _ know _ your ‘fuck-me’ face. It’s kind of easy to spot.”

“I don’t have a ‘fuck-me’ face,” he defended, the twist passing his lips with little to no effort, “My face may say ‘Fuck me’ but it’s not a ‘fuck-me’ face.”

“It really is,” she deadpanned, lifting a foot and pressing it into his chest when it looked like he was about to scoot closer, “Back off, Casanova, I’m drained. I had a long night.”

“How  _ did _ your night go?” his try at conversation was pitiful, but worked, and she had a small, creeping smile on her mouth as she tucked her chin to her chest, “Lollipops, he was.. He was  _ awesome _ ..”

“Did you.. Were you safe..?” Sam tried smiling at the odd phrasing, but from the bitchface she threw at him he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, don’t get mad, Dean always boasts about his conquests. I might be a little curious.”

“More like nosy,” she scoffed, but managed to kick her feet up again, throwing her legs over his lap and pressing her back into the arm of the couch. “Alright. What do you want to know? Nothing invasive or damning. And nothing about his occupation or name.”

“Well jeez, there went my checklist,” Sam rolled his eyes mockingly, his hands coming up to her calves and pressing down ever so slightly on the tight, warm muscles there. “But seriously, how did it go. What did you do?”

“Well..” her eyes licked up, and a smile spread across her face.

_ “Come on, you’ve never been to any other countries besides Canada?” _

_ “Not at all.” _

_ “Then to commemorate this alliance, I propose we spend some time in a little place I like to call ‘Rio De Janeiro’..” _

_ “Only so long as you promise to heal me if it looks like I’m about to die of alcohol poisoning..” _

_ “Deal. Shall we?” _

“Drinking.. Dancing..” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut as she remembered the fierce, twisting Samba she had performed on top of a parade float. “Lots, and lots.. Of both, actually.. There was loud music.. Pulsing beat.. It was hot as hell, but he kept me from overdoing it. Which, in all actuality, was kind of shocking.”

“Was he..” Sam tried for words, lips pinching as he thought, though she seemed to catch on, and she openly laughed. “Oh, no-no. He would never. If he wanted me in his bed, he would put the effort in to woo me.”

“So you didn’t..”

“We didn’t sleep together.”

“Oh,” he hummed.

Her hand swat out, knocking into his arm and her mockingly disgruntled expression making a smile pull at his lips. “What, you think I'd jump into bed with the first attractive guy I see? You’re still sitting here, right?”

“Sometimes it’s like you  _ enjoy _ reminding me that you like me in a way that I like you, and it seems to astound you.”

“Yeah, no,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes again and relaxing into the old couch, eyes fluttering closed, “You and Dean are off limits..”

“You like Dean,” he sounded more blank than he’d meant to, though she hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“I have eyes, but I’m not in love with him, just like I’m not in love with you. I enjoy my self-respect.”

“You’re not really giving either of us a chance, either,” he pointed out, emphasizing the words with a soft grasp of each calf. One in each of his warm, monster-sized hands. “To be fair, you’re not even really exploring the possibility that we might-”

“Fuck off,” her foot shot up, and her ankle stopped mere centimeters from his chin, the movement making his freeze as he turned his eyes over and down to look at hers. “You don’t. Dean doesn’t. Don’t imply shit. Not to mention, I already told you I want to bless Dean’s wedding. Can’t really do that as the bride.”

“Who does he marry?” Sam’s curiosity briefly overrode his ministrations, and she grunted a bit when he had stopped. “Hoping for him to marry,” she flashed him a grin, then, a smile that was all slyness and anticipation as she sat up in her seat, “Oh Lord, those two are meant to be- there is absolutely no other explanation. All the long, compacted seconds of eyesex add up to hours and they just  _ stare _ \- you can  _ feel _ their sexual tension after the Apocalypse fiasco- it’s so wonderful and heartbreaking and AHHHHH-!!” She let out a loud, feminine squeal then, jumping to her feet so she could abruptly hug the taller brunette tightly around the shoulders. “Why didn’t I think of this before- _you_ can help me-!”

Sam blinked widely up at the woman straddling his knees, looking either hyped up on sugar or possibly crack. “With what?”

“Getting your brother hitched-! We  _ need _ to pull his ass out of the closet- He’s so far stuck back he’s in Narnia at this point- we need to ease him out of it-!”

“Wait- what? Dean’s straight,” Sam started to protest, but her hand had come up to quickly cover his mouth as she glared at him, eyebrow raised, “He’s bi, and if I could show you my visions, you would have proof. He’s awkward as  _ fuck _ when he gets hit on by smaller, honest nerdy guys and it is absolutely adorable and he  _ needs _ to come out of the closet so he can see what a wonderful inter-dimensional being his _soulmate_ is-!”

She stopped shaking his shoulders long enough for him to look her in the eye, her face steady as she glared down at him from her inch and a half of height on him, now. “C’mon, Sam. Don’t you want your brother to accept the love of his life, no love potion necessary?”

Sam opened his mouth, probably to question the specifics of what she had just said, but a chime cut him off, and they both turned to see the phone on the table a few feet away. CJ looked back at Sam, then, eyes blank as she processed, before she flailed her arms sharply and catapulted to the side, shooting him a wary look as she rubbed her arms, “Fuck me and my enthusiasm. I am never doing that again.”

Sam picked up the phone on the fourth ring, his tone light as his eyes trailed back to the brunette huddled once again in the couch. “Dean, what’s up?”

He hung up the phone a few minutes later, letting it close with a click, and CJ kept her eyes pinned resolutely to the doorway as she sat in silence. 

“Oh, and CJ, before I forget..” she perked up a bit at the sound of her name, though she was hesitant to turn her head when Sam sat down on his bed, stretching out a bit as he reached for his laptop. “Next time you get a shot of enthusiasm, feel free.”

“Smite me, Winchester.”

“I’d rather bite you.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you, there’s a good chance I’m poisonous.”

“Well, trial and error.”

“Fuck off, Sam.”


	43. Chapter 43

“A cheerleader is an interesting look for a centuries-years old witch.”

“Yeah, well if you were a 600-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn’t you go for a hot cheerleader?”

Sam didn’t have an answer, but Dean had a vague, thoughtful look on his face, “I would.”

“Well, our next stop would be the school, then, right? Tracy had a violent altercation with one of the teachers, something tells me she’s not dumb enough to blow her cover. So this had to be intentional. She’s trying to throw others off,” Sam slid his laptop over to his brother, sitting up from his sprawled position on the bed when he saw that the door was opening, incoming a woman with two take-out bags and a drink holder. “I bring sustenance-!”

“So, teacher will give us some speal about her being wierd so we focus on her, when the teacher’s not a teacher, he’s in on it?” Dean sighs, a smile cracking his lips when a bag is put directly beside him and the drink carrier set on the table between the two beds. “Thanks CJ.”

“No problemo,” she slid her palm across the air in a dismissive wave, plopping herself on the end of his bed when she had tossed Sam his food as well, “There was a really pretty waitress working at the dinner, and I may or may not flirt with her later..”

“..Red hair, nice arms?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “With the most kissable ankles I’ve ever seen on a woman,” CJ practically moaned around her bite of food, smiling into her burger with a faint blush, “She winked at me, too. Caught me checking her out and checked me out in turn. _So_ hot, man.”

“Why do you have such good luck with women?” Dean joked with a gruff playfulness, knocking her side with his elbow as he chuckled. “I see into their hearts, and I can label a good few of their secret desires. Just like I can look into you and see everything _you_ secretly need in a relationship of any kind.” Dean squirmed a little at her sudden, close-up stare, lifting a hand to cover her eyes and press her back as she spluttered with a laugh. “The look on your face-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shortstack, laugh while you can.”

* * *

“Well, I have errands to run before I go to the party tonight, you two will be left with the aftermath.” CJ waved a bit as she sat in her baby, watching the boys get into the car, they would be going in uniform to visit Don, the art teacher. They would need to play it cool, and Dean promised to keep his head down. She held his hand a while after reminding him, while he simply stared at the wall. Sam had been changing, and it was briefly silent while she stroked her thumb along the back of his hand.

“You’ll forgive yourself one day, when you fully understand..”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It won’t, right now. Not today, not tomorrow, not even a year from now, but you do.”

She pulled out of the lot with a smooth purr, turning up her radio and nodding to the beat of a remixed musical number she’d burned into a CD.

“ _Cool and cold, like winds, on the sea.. Will you ever return, to me.._ ”

The song was haunting, but kept her alert, and she wasted no time in getting to the craft supply store she’d found the day before. She needed some more fabric, plus better thread, and she needed to update their medical supplies.

The treats were the last thing on her list, and she managed to pull into the lot just as Sam and Dean had gotten out of the Impala. She honked her horn, or more, bleated it, twice, smiling in glee when Dean and Sam had both jumped, and turned to glare at her. Sliding out of her seat, she held out the bag she’d put in the passenger seat out to Dean, and watched as his face went from irritated to gleeful in a matter of seconds.

“For you, good sir.”

“All American Apple,” she heard him mutter, watching as he took the bag and pulled out the Bakery-bought good. It was still piping hot. He shot her a smile, and from the pale creases at his eyes, her expression fell. “You looked.”

He huffed, but didn’t deny it, catching hold of the door as she opened it and carefully shutting it for her when she was completely out, bags over her arms, which Dean politely helped manage, as they all moved toward the door. Sam had the key.

“Trick or treat,” CJ looked up at the sound of a child, and moved to smack her elbow into Dean’s side when he went to open his mouth. Smiling, she held up a finger to the astronaut, opening her closest plastic bag and digging in before pulling out a full sized hershey bar. “Happy Halloween, kid.” She sent him off with a happy wave, and from the annoyed look Dean shot her, she raised her eyebrows high. “If you would have told him you had no candy, which you, of course, ate all of on your stake out, he would have egged your Baby. And mine, by default. So don’t even think about complaining.”

He nodded after several seconds, taking her word for it before Sam shook his head and hurried to open the door. She had ice cream to put in a cooler.

“Who are you-?!”

“Sam, _Sam_ wait-!”

_Oh fuck-_

“Tippens~!” CJ cheered, barralling past Dean and forcefully shoving her way past Sam before she could put the bags down and inspect the angel in front of her.

“That’s Castiel. The angel,” Dean informed his brother quickly, the taller brunette looking confused for a split second before he looked panicked, fumbling to put his gun away in a hurry. There was another figure at the window, a darker skinned man with no hair, and a crisp suit, similar to Castiel’s, minus the trench coat. “Him I don’t know.”

Castiel got to his feet in silence, and took slow, measured steps up to the brothers, one dark, deep blue wing lifting ever so slightly when the human woman had made a literal duck to get past him. “Hello, Sam.” Cue fanboying.

“Oh my god- Or, uh.. I didn’t mean to-- Sorry, It’s.. It’s an honor,” the fumbling, adorable moose quickly held out his hand, “Really, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Castiel looked down toward the offered appendage, no change to his expression, but a small form had snuck up behind him, and once again ducked beneath the wall of feathers, grasping his elbow and gently easing it forward when he had sharply shot his eyes to her. “Easy, Tippens, it’s a handshake. We do it often on Earth..”

Castiel took his hand with more ease, then, nodding his head with a firmness that spoke of his lack of practice. “And I, you. Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood.” Sam tensed a little under the stare of the man with the pale blue eyes, shifting on his feet when the angel continued. “I’m glad to hear you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” the deep voice of the man at the window finally cut in, the disdain underlining his tone almost too clear to see.

“Yeah okay, chuckles,” Dean scoffed, rejoining his brother’s side after moving to shut the door. Turning his attention to the angel in front of them. “Who’s your friend.”

Cas, however, didn’t seem to have the time for small talk. “The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Castiel turned his eyes to the righteous man, the concern and annoyance behind them hidden to the human’s though it reflected in the rustle of his wings. “Have you located the witch?”

“Yes, we have located the witch,” Dean nodded. CJ wanted to throw a shoe at Uriel. Just having him standing there gave her many an idea about throwing things at him. The question was, would it hit it’s intended mark?

“And is the witch dead?” Castiel urged.

“ _What the fuck-?!_ ” The curse shut everyone up as they turned their heads to the bedside, where CJ was holding a brown leather trunk, “Someone touched my spellcase-! There’s burnt flesh stuck to the handles- eww..” She grimaced down at the flaky, black stuff, glad that it didn’t stink. “Some _thing_ tried to either rob us or snoop. I’m going for C, both.”

“The witch seems to know who you are,” Castiel spoke up after the air had settled, walking over to one of the tables, and pulled out a small, brown bag with a thread tie. “We found this, in the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one, or all of you would be dead.”

“Actually, they wouldn’t considering they have charm bags sewn inside their jackets.” CJ’s casual rebuttal was met with confusion from Sam, but a grunt from Dean, having seen her completing the process. “They’re not _complete_ idiots, though refusing to let me ward the room pisses me off more than it should.” “You are _not_ being a witch, CJ,” Dean felt the automatic denial leave his lips, and he shot a look toward the girl pouting over the leather case not sitting on the bed as she scrapped at the blackened handles with a sharp knife, letting the flakes come off onto a ratty towel. “I was hoping to be a mage, you ass-! White magic-! Healing-!”

“All I’m hearing is spells and body manipulation.”

“Dean, I will throw my shoe at you, it was reserved for chuckles but I might make an exception.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cut into the argument, both parties shooting him a look of annoyance. “ _What_?”

“Do you know where the witch is now?”

The brothers shared a look, and CJ sent them a glare so sharp they had to take a moment to remember the warning, before shrugging her off. Dean answered in place of all three. “We’re working on it.”

“That is unfortunate.” Castiel’s eyes flickered to the ground, but the way his wings had tucked inward displayed his unsaid grief.

“What do you care?” Dean demanded.

Castiel paused a moment, and gave him a stern, but morose look. “The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals.”

“So this is about your buddy Lucifer,” Dean scoffed, nodding to show that he understood, and was incredibly annoyed, by the turn of events.

“Lucifer is no friend of ours,” the bald man spoke up. He had hardly finished speaking before a shoe had been lodged at his head, his arm swinging up to catch the offending trinket, though the second shoe was unheard, and smacked directly into his face.

“Smite me, dickless wonder, if you badmouth Lucifer to me, I’ll remove those wings of yours and deep fry them in Holy Oil..” Her words were accompanied by a glare, and the most irritated expression she’d ever seen flashed across his face as he started to stride.

“Who do you think you are, you little hairless ape?”

“I dare you to come over here and say that to my face you emotionless fucking-”

“CJ, _shut up-!_ ” Dean’s voice nearly boomed throughout the room, and the brunette hesitated, before rolling her eyes with a grumble. “Why couldn’t Castiel come _aloooone_?” she whined openly at the loss, flopping back onto the bed with a pout and rolling to grab her maroon colored blanket from her chair. “I don’t want to deal with any other low-level angels today.. The majority are assholes.”

“Watch your tone, human,” Uriel spit.

“Smite me,” she snapped back, grinning in a daring way before an arm had looped around her waist and she was thrown over a shoulder, “Gah- fuck- Sam-! No-! Don’t you dare-!”

The bathroom door shut with a click, and she hurried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I will kick this door down-!”

…

“Dean-!”

…

“C’mon, guys-!”

…

“Guys, seriously, let me out-!”

…

_Fuck this._


	44. Chapter 44

CJ sat back gently in the mountain of bubbles, a washcloth over her eyes and a cleansing mask scrubbed into her skin in a thick, green color. Her nails were cleaned, and she had painted them, and she was now letting herself soak in a nice, relaxing mineral bath. 

Of course, _ leave it to the boys  _ to forget she was locked in a bathroom when they were sent on a holy mission to find the Art teacher’s address.

_ Assholes. _

Why the fuck did she love them, again..?

After twenty minutes, she rose from the water, and toed out the plug, letting it sit on the rim as she used the faucet to wash away the last of the bubbles, using her personal, fluffy blue towel to pat herself dry. It was a few minutes of this process before she was satisfied, and she swiped her black silk robe from behind the door on the hook provided, unwilling to put on her dirty clothes. Her costume was in her bag, and she was still several hours off from really needing it.

Settling herself on the edge of the tub when it was empty, she grabbed her shaving things from the small basket she kept in the bathroom at all times, and began the process of shaving and plucking herself again, keeping her legs smooth. 

“ _ As you go through life you’ll see, there is so much that we, don’t understand.. And the only thing we know, is things don’t always go, the way we planned.. _ ”

She began the process of trimming and painting her toenails, tilting her head so she could adjust the angle to do them properly, her prayer echoing merrily around the tiled room.

“ _ But you’ll see everyday, that we’ll never turn away, when it seems all your dreams come undone.. We will stand, by your side, filled with hope and filled with pride, we are more, than we are, we are one. _ ”

* * *

Of course, it would have been Dean to walk in on her openly pinching her thigh fat. Her leg, her right one, at least, was openly exposed from the black silk, though it only fell to her knees in the first place. She perked her head up at the sound of scraping, raising an eyebrow and contemplating if she should use a shampoo bottle to smack whomever opened it in the face.

_ Nah, she’d wait. _

* * *

Dean opened the door jammed shut with a chair quickly, having been anxious about the absolute silence. She was going to kill them. Sam had turned pale at the abrupt reminder, when they had debated calling her to see if she knew anything, while they were elbows deep in staff records.  _ They had forgotten that they had locked CJ in the bathroom. _

_ CJ was going to  _ **_kill_ ** _ them. _

“What do you want?” she didn’t even bother looking at him as she continued massaging her thigh, the scrub in her palms smelling of sugar and cookies. She liked the smell. 

Dean flinched, both at the sight of her practically naked, and that she had immediately dismissed him. “Ahm.. the.. The door’s open..”

“I can see that, Dean.”

He flinched again, feeling the chill of her words as she let her leg fall back to the floor, and her robe flutter closed the hide it again. She didn’t even look at him as she gathered her basket of toiletries and left the bathroom, bumping into his shoulder but not saying a word until she had moved to grab her bag. “I’m leaving for the party in twenty minutes, don’t wait up for me.”

“We were going to stake out the place-” 

“Go directly in. Shoot who you want, I don’t care, just wear a damned mask.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah, now get out, I need to change.”

He flinched, “Right, sorry, I-”

“ _ Out _ .”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

* * *

Cleopatra slid smoothly into the valet exchange at the expensive restaurant, three towns over in the opposite direction she had gone last time. She handed the keys over to her baby, watching him stare at the elegant, glorious paint job before she grabbed her clutch and strode her way inside. She had a reservation.

She waited just in front of the podium for all of eight seconds before she was joined by a soft breeze and the smell of candy, and.. Flowers?

Turning her head, she offered the newest arrival a sly, pleased smile.

He looked surprised, then playfully annoyed by her outfit, taking the time to roll his eyes heavenward before putting his hands on his hips, one hand holding the stalks of what looked like thirty roses, and the other grasping what looked like an expensive box of chocolates. “And here I thought this was going to be a  _ civil _ evening.. Not sure if I should eat these in front of you or just ignore that you have clothes on entirely.”

“You would, wouldn't you,” she chuckled, a light warming her previously glassy eyes as she gestured him forward, reaching out a hand to him in a soft beckon, “The reservation was already made. I’m glad you’re on time.” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he chuckled, nodding his head toward the server rushing back to them in a hurry, as his voice pitched low, “Meeting to discuss the fate of the world, I’d be crazy to be late.”

“I would’ve given you thirty minutes before I left,” she shrugged, sighing a bit as the man in front of them cleared his throat. “Reservation name?”

“It should be under Jordan,” CJ spoke slowly, and smoothly, the polished metal of her corset-bodice reflecting the light of candles around them. Reaching the floor was a thick, red curtain of a skirt, polished silver heels donning her feet and a silver wing pin holding back her braid. Lightning bolts hung from chains in her ears, and a pendant with a pressed hammer hung around her neck. She was an elegant, female Thor for the night.

Gabriel had sprung for black pants, shiny black shoes, a dark, forest green shirt, a black vest, and a golden pendant tucked into his shirt.  _ Loki _ . It was an elegantly matching set.

The two took a seat in a darker, secluded booth toward the back, lit mostly by candle light and one or two lamps a bit above them. 

CJ unfolded the provided cloth napkin and placed it on her lap, fingers reaching for the menu as she gestured for Gabriel to take the wine list. “Pick your poison, the bill is on me tonight. I  _ am _ the one who dragged you out here.”

“No one makes me do anything,” he hummed, flicking the small booklet open with his fingers and scanning the list. “Sweet Red, Landshut, please.”

“Of course,” the waiter nodded, bowing a bit before scurrying away. CJ glanced over the menu at the sudden silence, flicking her eyes up every so often when he began toying with the knife of his silverware. 

“So, how about we start with why you asked me to adjust that bond?”

His words were casual, but the veiled seriousness in them made her shoulders slump a bit. She folded the menu, already knowing her order, and set it aside, folding one hand over the other and looking up to meet his serious, narrow-eyed gaze. He looked nothing more than slightly curious, but his whiskey-colored eyes bred passion and suspicion. 

“Whenever the Winchesters are hurt, I recieve their injuries,” she had no need to lie to this man, they had made a blood-pact. Rendering lies impossible. Bonds worked like that. “Furthermore, if I am not within the presence of either one, or both, it is as if my soul is not within my body, leaving me in a state of consciousness that leaves everything as a means to an end. I only regain these feelings of grief, anger, sadness or shock after I have returned into the distance of the Winchesters. In a way, it’s just as dangerous as tearing out my soul and leaving my husk. You know what becomes of those.”

“Murderers, most often,” Gabriel nodded in slight understanding, sitting up when the waiter returned with two glasses and a pail of ice, with a single bottle inside. “You can leave the bottle,” she requested after he’d poured out both of their glasses. “We are ready to order, I believe, as well.”

“I’ll take the couple’s sundae,” Gabriel informed the dutiful, then surprised waiter, though he quickly wrote it down without comment, and looked toward the lady of the table. “And you, Miss?” “I’d like the chicken Parmesan, please,” she nodded, crossing one knee over the other as she sat a bit taller in her chair, “As well as a side of ice cream. One scoop, chocolate drizzle.”

“Of course,” he nodded, glancing between the two once more before dismissing himself in a hurry. 

CJ smoothed the napkin upon her lap, before relaxing once more. “Shall I continue, or do you understand enough?”

“For now,” he nodded, returning to his small game of twirling the knife around his fingers. He really was a warrior. “I have more I want to ask..”

“Go ahead,” she nodded, “We agreed on full disclosure, and I intend to hold my deal. However, there will be things you cannot know. I will need to warn you that whenever I say something is sensitive, it's information you will need to ignore. In order to leave the future on the path to its intended completion, with as little interference as possible..”

“But you’ll still tell me,” he narrowed his eyes. Her grim smile was answer enough, but she still found the energy to chuckle. “I prefer life, yes.”

“So,” he sighed, lifting a hand to press the heel of his palm into the space between his eyebrows, “What are the two yahoos doing right now?”

“At the moment?” she raised an eyebrow herself, glancing toward the ornate grandfather clock a few feet away before shrugging, “Fighting Samhain, most likely. Trying to save a seal that heaven doesn’t care breaks or not. I’ve just decided to help as much as I can from a distance. I can’t interfere too much.” He could see the door slamming across her eyes, guarding them, and he found the two simple words to snap them back open.

“What happened?”

She blinked slowly at him as he finished off his glass of wine, gesturing toward her own, untouched glass, as she blinked. Reaching out, her hand a bit unsteady, she grasped the slim glass stem, bringing it to her lips and taking a long, slow sip. She needed a bit of liquid courage.

“There was.. One case.. That I tried to take charge of.. I completely took over- and it had worked- everything had worked out- but..”

“But,” he prompted quietly.

A soft, breathy laugh left her lips, and tears were coursing from the corners of her eyes before she could realize that she was crying. “Jack, Michelle, and an unborn baby.. There was an older hunter, who decided that sealing away the Rougarou gene wasn’t effective enough. He needed the family line to end- and his wife-” her voice broke, and she sucked in a breath, her head ducking down as she bottled up her strength as much as she could, “His wife was p-..  _ pregnant _ .. He..  _ Travis  _ didn’t care that it was taken care of, he.. He bombed the family table, and when she got away he-.. He stabbed her stomach.. I. I read the news, after we found out, a few days after it had happened, and I had gone to stay at Bobby’s, by that time, the distance had kicked in and I was robotically sewing charm bags, but.. But I read that she had died in the ambulance. She died in agony. That whole.. I.. I killed a family on the first try at doing things my way.. I..”

She sniffed then, feeling the wetness on her cheeks and sitting upright quickly as she snatched the napkin from her lap, “Oh  _ Lollipops _ , I probably look awful- sorry. I.. I haven’t.. I’ve never talked about that.. It’s.. It’s been a few months..” A smile curled her lips, and he watched the wall come crashing back up. He poured out a bit more wine for himself, then reached over to refill her glass again, seeing as she had drank three fourths of it. He set the bottle back on the ice, leaning forward so his elbows were on the table, and resting his chin in his hands. “So, you don’t want to risk ruining a case, so you stay back?”

“The Winchesters  _ always _ fix whatever problem they find,” her voice was so monotone about that he had no issue believing her, “They never give up on a case, and they always manage to come out on top, even if it’s the Apocalypse, or Heaven’s War.”

“I believe you,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of her form. Despite the strong, regal outfit she wore, her mere energy was diluted with sorrow and pain. He could only vaguely see it, due to the warding she had shown him the night previous. Ingenious, really.

“Anything else you want to know?” she asked quietly, lifting her glass to her lips, “Because there are a lot more deaths in that category where I would have prevented things,” a smile fell across her lips, and it looked like shattered glass, “I have a pretty fine-tuned list, actually, complete with name’s and general ages.”

“No,” he sighed, sitting up again and glancing toward the rest of the restaurant. There was a rather good number of couples, a majority of them in shorter dresses and pressed shirts, most likely due to the fact that it was Halloween and the restaurant was connected to a four star hotel. “What’s your favorite movie?” he asked casually. The question seemed to throw the sullen girl for a loop, and she had perked up, just a bit, at the odd question, a hint of a spark in her eye as she tilted her head. “That would be.. Big Hero Six.. It hasn’t been made yet.. But it’s awesome..”

“Oh?” he smiled, a quirk of lips that had her eyes focussing more on him than the darkened thoughts that had clouded her eyes just moments ago. “What else do you like? If we’re going to be partners in crime with this fiasco, we need to figure each other out.”

“I’m actually a very simple person,” she shrugged, her eyes blinking a small, embarrassed smile touched her lips, “If I’m mad at you, there’s a good chance you can bribe me back to being happy with M&Ms.”

“Girl after my very own heart,” he grinned. “Alright, so I know your favorite candy, your favorite movie, I’m guessing your favorite color is blue?”

“How’d you guess?” she gasped dramatically, fire sparking to life behind her hazel orbs. Gabriel, surprisingly, felt accomplished. For a human, she wasn’t so bad.. The grief she felt was painful, he would be the first to say, but she was also yearning for better, for peace in the lives of others. She didn’t seem to really care if she could die at any moment.

That may be something they would talk about, later.

“Just a shot in the dark, Lollipop,” he laughed. Sighing, he sat back in his seat, closing his eyes as they waited for the food.

“What about you?”

He looked up with a surprised hum, seeing as she was staring at him in earnest fascination, her elbows on the table and her chin propped on her fists, similar to how he’d been sitting earlier, but much less interrogative, much more happy. “What’s your favorite movie, or TV show?”

“Downtown Abbey,” he grinned.

“Bullshit.”

His grin fell, and he looked at her in surprise as she pouted. “You’ve never even seen the damned thing, don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes.”

“How would knowing the future tell you that,” the laughter in his voice was too heavy to cover, and he had to restrain himself from raising his volume. 

“Because you talked to Cas through a porno in his mindscape, after he was kidnapped, basically reminding him of his responsibilities as a person and being overall..  _ Gabriel.. _ ” His name rolled off her tongue like wine much finer than they had been drinking, and he felt a flash of surprise at how much he enjoyed the sound. 

“Sounds like me,” he murmured, nodding his head a little in assent. 

“Sir, Miss, your food.”

They looked up in time to see the waiter returning to the table, with two covered silver trays. He set them both in front of the two before removing the lids, and bowing, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Some more wine, if you wouldn’t mind- something white, and sweet, if you have it. Surprise us.” Gabriel nodded.

“Of course, I shall return shortly.”

When he was gone, both of the table’s occupants let out simultaneous, identical snorts. They looked to each other in surprise, Gabriel’s smile widening when her face flushed red. “Ah, that was a jinx, wasn’t it?” She giggled, shaking her head as she straightened out her napkin, reaching for her silverware and smiling as she inhaled the wonderful scent of chicken and cheese. “You know Gabriel, before I met you, I had honestly thought you were a goofball, a troublemaker with a pension for self-punishment and a lack of responsibility.”

“Wow, tell me how you  _ really  _ feel,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a bite of strawberry neapolitan with chocolate sauce, whip cream and a stray cherry. 

“But, after meeting you,” her voice was softer now, her fork twirling around a piece of shell noodle as she poked at her plate, “You’re honest, which I knew, and compassionate, which, I also knew, but.. You’ve shown me, that.. Even  _ without _ the Winchesters pushing you that final step to pick a side on the war between Heaven, Hell, and Earth, you’re capable of understanding that people are important. Lives are important, and you showed that, subtly, in your tricks.. You’re, for all intents and purposes, a middle child, never taken seriously by the older siblings, but.. Your voice always seems to try shouting the loudest.. And I think that’s why I liked you so much when I saw you in the visions.. I guess I, on some lower-tier level, understood where you were coming from, only being able to witness the conflict, having no say, being forced to watch it until you break and run..” Her empty glass touched the table, and she shook her head, “Your problem, of course, is on a literal Apocalyptic level, so I can’t really compare it.. I just know the basics of the process, in personal experience.”

“Thank you.”

His words were a surprise to both of their ears, and when they met eyes, it was silent. When they had finished their meal, after having been quiet, save for the occasional question like, “What was your most embarrassing memory?” Her’s being thrown into a dumpster during her freshman year of highschool, and his being one of the first few times he’d tried flying. The fact that she could see his wings was fascinating to him. And he wanted to see if she could see  _ all _ of him, but was also concerned about killing her. That, however, was doused, after she’d explained just a few more things.

“I believe I am effectively immortal.” 

“Come again?” Gabriel deadpanned.

“I’ve tried committing suicide twenty seven times.. Twenty eight if you count a more recent case, though that was fueled by alcohol and fear. I’ve stabbed myself, cut myself, drowned myself, electrocution. Overdosing, jumping off of buildings. I starved myself once, went without water another. I threw myself in front of a truck, threw my neck on a sharp sheet of metal.

“I always lived. I always healed. And I was left with no scars.”

“Seriously?” he huffed, blinking slowly as he looked closer at her, everything was hazy. “It’s strange, to me, it’s like.. You have a sheet of glass on your body, like a one way mirror. You can push energy out, but it doesn’t seem able to go in.”

“I would absolutely  _ love _ to figure out how to use my soul as a superpower,” she grinned, then, a flashy thing that would echo in months time as a pleading beg. He already knew this was going to complicated. What surprised him was how much he really didn’t care.

“Maybe one day..”


	45. Chapter 45

It has come to my attention, after reading through for obvious errors over what has been published, that I neglected to include the final piece of the first episode in the story. It is now in Chapter 9, if you are interested to go read it.   
Apologies, again, for the inconvenience.  
Caio,   
-Pistol


	46. Chapter 46

I now have a visual representation of CJ available. Personally, I imagined her looking closely like the image I've created as my new Profile Icon.


	47. Chapter 47

CJ woke up in a large, plush bed, cool sheets surrounding her body and something warm beside her. A phone was ringing. Her phone, if the distinctive voices of Kansas said anything about it. Rubbing her eyes, she grunted, surprised, as she fumbled her hand out toward the sound. Beside the bed, on a small white table, her phone was hooked to a charger. She unplugged it, and flicked it open, not even bothering to check to ID.

“Hee _wwo,_ ” Her yawn cut into her voice and she hummed a little as she scrubbed harder at her eyes, “Hello?”

“ _CJ_ ,” Dean’s voice, strained, cut through the line, and she grunted a little at his tone. “ _CJ where are you? It’s three o’clock_.”

“Hm?”

She blinked her eyes around the dim room, seeing the medium, fluffy white dog beside her, and the silk red sheets.

“What the Hell-?” she muttered, “Dean.. gimme.. Gimme a minute.. Holy shit- too many shots- _too many shots_ \- _oww_ -!” she fell gracelessly off of the bed, hitting the floor with a thump and making the dog bark in alarm, whimpering at the sight of the woman sprawled on the floor.

“ _CJ- CJ what happened_ -?!”

“I fell on the floor,” she muttered, her hair splayed around her in a thick, tangled curtain, “Dean.. I have no idea how much I drank last night.. It was bottomless shot night..”

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean’s sudden, surprised, and understanding grunt was followed quickly by the sound of rustling fabric, he was likely going to grab his keys. “Well, where are you? You can’t drive Cleo with a massive hangover. I’ll pick you up and-”

“No-no-! I’m naked-! Don’t-!” She cut him off quickly, saying the first thing that had come to mind and flinching immediately after, “I mean.. This dude I’m with, man.. Wrong impression, _not needed_ ..” Dean scoffed, but she could tell he was hesitant. “ _Well, where are you_?” He sounded reasonably uncomfortable now. She didn’t bother asking why.

“Three towns over, I’ll just.. Hitch a ride or something.. Or you can drive through and meet me at one of the diners..”

“ _Fine,_ ” Dean quipped, and there was a tartness to his tone as he worked his jaw, “ _Give me the address.”_

When she had ended the call, it took her all of five seconds to realize that Gabriel was standing at the doorway, leaned up against the frame. He had a pair of shiny red silk boxers, and a white tank top. “‘Wrong impression’, huh?”

“You want them bursting into your house- where the Hell am I, anyway?” She took a moment to see the creamy carpet floor, the red silk bed, and the black walls, covered in artwork, ranging from naked women to beautiful sceneries. “Nice place, by the way..”

“I half expected you to make a face at the nude shots,” he lifted an eyebrow in surprise, but she only shrugged, “Dude, I’m Pan, I don’t really care.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thoughtful for a moment, before letting out two short whistles. “Sherlock-! C’mere.”

The dog, fully white with only black ears that spread forward to cover his eyes, bounded off of the bed and over to his master with a whine of happiness, allowing the man to pet him lovingly as he wagged his stubby tail.

“So his name’s Sherlock?” CJ hummed, popping her spine as she got up off of the floor, “Thank you, by the way, for putting me to bed. Next time we go drinking together, I’m going to need to limit the alcohol. Pretty sure that it’s about an eighth of my fluid system right now..”

“Here,” he shrugged, and walked over, helping her to stand before putting his entire palm over her chest. It was a few long, silent minutes, but when he pulled back, she felt a lot better. “Wow, Cas couldn’t really do anything like that to me.”

“Archangel, just takes a lot of concentration and juice,” he shrugged, smiling a bit, though there was a frown on his face when she had looked away to inspect the blue silk pajamas she was now in. Full length pants and a button-up long sleeved shirt. “Thank you for changing me, too. Would it be rude to ask to leave these here?”

“You plan on spending more nights in my bed?” he raised an eyebrow, the frown looking as if it had never been there at all. She rolled her eyes at his teasing smile, lifting a hand to pat his shoulder. “Only if you let me, besides, I’m certain last night wasn’t the last of our epic bouts of debauchery.”

“Ooh, bouts of debauchery. That will be our codeword.”

“Okay, Gabriel.”

“So, breakfast?”

“I’m meeting the boys at a diner, but I’m sure- wait.. Where’s Cleo.?”

“I can put her, and you, outside a dinner in seconds, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes, motioning for her to follow him, “But if you wanna be boring then _fine_.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

He halted at the soft pressure on his cheek, and turned his head just as she moved to walk away, toward her bag sitting on the corner of a couch.

“...No problem, Lollipop.”

* * *

 

And that was the end of 'When Life Gives You Snickers'-! I look forward to hearing your opinions on CJ and her adventure in the comments, and I have a bit of a proposition for the fans.

_Would you like to meet CJ?_

We _all_ know how the Supernatural panels at conventions get, well, _I_ figured, with enough episodes, we could incorporate something similar into this-!

I'd like to get a feel for all of your opinions on the matter first. It would require many questions being asked and a bit of work to acquire minor details from the account owners who ask them.

I think it would be fun.

Your thoughts?

;)

Ciao~

Pistol


	48. Wishful Thinking

“It just doesn’t make any sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn’t?”

“Maybe because he’s a dick, that might have something to do with it”

CJ sat in silence as she nursed her beer. Dean was on shots at this point, and they had just finished dinner.

“Okay,  _ maybe _ , but he’s still an angel.”

“Angel’s lie, Sam,” CJ’s voice silenced both of them, and she gave an expression that bordered on chastising, “Don’t think any  _ one  _ creature is above lying.  _ God  _ lies, too.  _ Possibly  _ the most.”

“How can  _ God _ lie?” Sam sounded more astounded than annoyed. His angel experience hadn’t exactly been halos and harps. 

“You’ll see,” she muttered.

“Uriel was an angel who was ready to level an entire  _ town _ ,” Dean pointed out, both boys hunched over the table in a conspiracy pose, wary of listening ears, despite CJ’s absolute relaxation. “Look, I don’t know what-” he cut himself off, and a server in suspenders with many large pin-buttons waltzed over with a cheery smile. “Radical~!”

He stopped at the table, across from CJ, offering all three an eye-blinding smile, “What else can I get for you guys?”

“I think we’re good,” Sam gave a soft lift of his hand, he was stressed, but making an effort to be polite.

“Yeah?” he nodded, then tried again, his tone still light, “Wanna try a couple of our Fryer Bombs, or.. or a Chipotle Chili Chonga?”

“No, no,” Dean shook his head, smiling a tight-lipped smile that was trained to be polite. “We’re still good.”

“Okay, awesome,” the curly-blonde server nodded, waltzing away form the table while nodding. CJ shivered openly, tossing back the rest of her beer and tapping the empty bottle to Sam’s arm. He looked over, and she frowned, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “Was it just me, or did he look like a Lollipop-kid munchkin?”

“An older version?” he offered, sharing a slow, synced nod with her as they shot their eyes to the retreating boy’s back. 

When Sam had brought his eyes back to his brother, the serious air had returned, and CJ mourned the loss of her light, airy moment between the brothers. Damn.

“Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?” He knocked back another shot, grunting a bit at the burn, before setting the glass along the line of other empty cups. 

“Right,” the quipped, clear disbelief in Sam’s tone did not go unnoticed by Dean.

“What?”

“Okay, fine,” the brunette leaned forward again, his eyes hard, “Then look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t remember a  _ thing _ from your time down under.”

“I don’t remember a thing from my time down under.” When Sam pulled a bitchface, he hurried to continue, “I don’t remember, Sam.”

“Look, Dean, I just wanna help.”

“You know everything I do, that’s all there is,” Dean was getting worked up, and CJ sat up straight in her chair as the server came waltzing up once more. 

The boys noticed, too, and sat up quickly, playing nonchalaunt. 

“Outstanding,” The Lollipop teen grinned, “Dessert time? Huh? Am I right?”

“Dude--”

“Listen, bros, you have  _ got  _ to try our Ice Cream Extreme. It’s  _ Extreme _ .”

He looked between the boys, and Sam took one look at CJ’s immediate interest and backtracked, “Ahm- No, extremities, please.”

“But  _ Sam _ ~” CJ’s whine was emphasized when she flashed him big, doe eyes, eyelashes batting sweetly, “It’s  _ Extreme~ _ ”

“Yeah, okay, no more alcohol for you,” Dean muttered, Sam murmuring something else to the server before the check was dropped to the table. CJ pouted toward him, but stayed quiet. Dean could tell she was annoyed by the conversation, and rightfully so. She knew he was lying to his brothers face.

The fact that she kept her mouth shut, and defended him, however, soothed a bit of the sting the lying had done to him. Just knowing she would have his back was enough of a calming thought.

“Alright,” he murmured after a few seconds of examining their feminine companion as she read the label of her beer. He turned his eyes back up to Sam, who had also been watching her, eyes dark, calculating, and thoughtful. He wondered if his eyes glazed like that, too. “Where do we go from here?”

“Not sure,” Sam snapped out of his trance with ease, leaning over a bit to pull a newspaper from his bag at his side. “Looks like it’s been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity, no omens or portents I can see.”

“That’s good news for once,” Dean muttered, lifting his tumbler of beer and taking a healthy swig. CJ eyed it with envy, but sipped at her soda instead.

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, arranging the papers out on the table for the other two to see, “Just a typical smattering of crank UFO sightings.. And one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out.” He held out his laptop, next, pulled up to a more in depth article he had found. Dean took it with ease, and moved to scroll down it’s length. “Uh- Up in concrete Washington, uhm- eyewitness reports of a ghost that’s been haunting the showers of a women’s health facility-” Dean spluttered around his sip of beer, coughing a little as he hurriedly put it down on the table as he wiped his mouth. Sam ignored him, continuing without a pause. “The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs.”

He waved his hand toward Dean, while the man in question was hurriedly packing up their things, “I can see you’re very interested.”

“Did you expect anything less?” CJ murmured quietly.

“Women, showers..” He hurriedly grabbed a few bills from his wallet, not even bothering to count as he hurriedly got to his feet, “We gotta save these people.”

CJ and Sam sat for a few more seconds, and the brunettes let out slow, simultaneous sighs.

Glancing between each other, CJ couldn’t help but smile, accepting the hand Sam offered her as he got up and grabbed his bag, helping her to her feet. “Well, let’s go supervise Dean.”

“I think I had a vision of this case,” CJ didn’t even really mind that he was still holding her hand as he lead her out of the restaurant, past the chatting people and leading her into the ridiculously cold air. “This conversation seems dejavu-y, so I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this one.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Let’s go, before Dean honks the-”

Two quick bleats pierced the air, and the brunettes flashed the beloved Impala two separate levels of bitch face. “The horn.”

* * *

“Give me a minute,” CJ murmured, stepping away from the boys. She’d met them after Sam’s interrogation of the woman and Dean’s sweep of the bathrooms, and she was on the boardwalk, watching a good number of kids chase a smaller, blonde haired boy. “ _ Hey-! _ ”

The children stopped at the call, the blonde boy running just past her before she helped him curb his path and hide behind her. She stood straighter, shooting the Winchesters a look, and motioning for the kid before striding up to the boys not five feet ahead of her, nearly towering a good foot above the tallest child. “You little brats better back off before I find each one of your parents and tell them you’ve been smoking by the bridge with some highschool kids-!”

They looked at her in surprise, and offended, the taller one of the three stepped up a bit, his voice,  clearly showing his lack of respect and taunting nature. “Yeah right, like they would listen to a stranger.”

“So I can just add on a bonus that you’ve been bullying this sweetheart here, too?” She tilted her head, watching the look of trepidation in the three’s eyes flash as she glared, the fear slowly clouding their expressions as she continued, “I’m pretty sure that if I also mention that I’m a federal agent, they might be more inclined to take me seriously.” She flashed the badge from her pocket, and the boys paled, spluttering a bit as they apologized, then turned heel on their expensive shoes and bolted along the opposite way. 

She turned back a bit, flashing the small, blonde boy a sweet smile, and held out her hand, “Hiya, nice to meet you. I’m CJ.”

“I know a damned bear track when I see one-!”

The shout cut into her hearing, and both she and the boys perked up to see the older man and an officer further down the dock arguing. She turned her eyes back to the kid, motioning with her hand for the boys to go on ahead. “Sweetheart, would you like a ride home?” She pulled out her badge, and gave it to him when he looked a bit hesitant, “Here, that’s my FBI badge, take a look.”

“Thank you for doing that,” he murmured, a frown flickering across his face as he handed it back, “But why did you do that?” “They were being brats,” she shrugged, pocketing the flipbook and motioning for the boy to follow her, “C’mon. We’ll take my car. Can you tell me your address?”

* * *

“That was so cool-!”

The blonde little boy, Todd, he had said, was fawning over Cleopatra as she sat parked in front of the townhome. “Your car is awesome, lady-!”

“I know~” CJ grinned, patting the hood lovingly before moving to take his hand, “Well come on, I should walk you to the door.”

He held her hand tightly, practically dragging her up the sidewalk and to the door. She rang the bell after a moment, and waited patiently as the sound of footsteps reached the door, and the inside one swung open, revealing a woman with almost sixties style hair and a very stay-at-home with pearls and an apron look. “Toddrick-?”

She looked surprised that the child hadn’t come directly in, but when she took note of the woman standing behind him, she smiled in confusion, “Oh, who might you be?”

“I’m agent Jordan,” she pulled out the badge, listening to Todd’s faint ‘awesome’ as he stood to the side, watching the interaction as his mother’s eyes widened almost comically, “I was in the neighborhood on accounts of strange reports, and I saw this guy in need of a ride home. I wanted to make sure he got here safely.”

“Ahm- you.. You’re FBI..?” she sounded so confused.

_ Oh boy.. _


	49. Chapter 49

“What was the ‘big’ emergency?” CJ exit her car with a huff. She had just dealt with the most sexist woman she had ever met in this life.  _ Why the heck was she so young? Why did she have such a male-centered job? How was she supposed to get married? _

“You sound chipper,” Sam scoffed, before pointing to the house behind the Impala. Dean was beside him, both looking rather uncomfortable and concerned, though Dean had tucked the magazine into the inner lining of his coat, right beside the nicked bottle of jack. “This house look familiar?”

CJ blinked at him slowly, narrowing her eyes at the brothers before leaning back into her car, raising an eyebrow. “Did you see the giant teddy bear?”

“We told her we were calling in a specialist,” Dean muttered.

“You two are unbelievable,” CJ sighed, moving to go to her trunk. With a few clicks to her key fob, it opened with a pop, and she opened it to look over her stash. It was chaotic order, and while she had a majority her weapons inside of it, they were further back, the main focus being the large number of color-coded bins. She plucked two little fabric bags out of two separate tins. Along with a long length of leather cord, and a chain. Closing her trunk, she walked past the boys, plucking the offered CDC ID from Sam. Following Dean, they made their way inside the well-furnished home. She followed him up the stairs, bracing herself as she kept the smile off of her face. She knew it was likely going to be incredibly uncomfortable, but the show had made it rather funny.

At the top of the stairs, a little girl with dark hair held in two pigtails stood, a small pink suitcase at her side, not all the way zipped up. She was watching the door sadly. She really was worried. “You must be Miss Audrey.”

Dean shot her a look of faint surprise, having not told her a thing, and she bent a little to kneel at the girls level, offering her a warm smile and a hand to shake. “I’m the specialist the Teddy-Bear-Doctors called in. I hear your friend has a bad case of Lollipops Disease..”

“That’s what he said,” she nodded, pointing toward Dean a bit before shaking the nice lady’s hand. “They said it’s contagious, and I need to stay with Mrs Hurley.” “It’s a very contagious disease,” CJ nodded calmly, patting the little girl’s shoulder gently. “I’m glad that they performed the proper procedure in assessing the problem. Before you go, to keep you from potentially getting, or spreading, the Lollipop sickness, I’ll need you to wear this special necklace.” She pulled her hand out of her pocket, revealing the small, black drawstring bag. Inside of it was an old copper coin, salt, and a piece of cinnamon stalk. “If you wear this around your neck, you’re less likely to carry the sickness, or be sick. This works with a lot of other illnesses, too, so it will keep you relatively protected.”

“Okay,” Audrey nodded, pulling up her hair and turning around, “Can you help me?”

“Sure thing,” CJ nodded, pulling the cord around her neck and tying it shut, knotting it so she could slip it on and off, but not lose it. “Alright, that should do it. My nice colleague downstairs is going to walk you to Mrs Hurley’s, while I’ll stay here to administer treatment.”

“Thank you, Miss,” she nodded, surprising CJ by wrapping her in a tight hug. Taking a deep breath, CJ carefully hugged her back, shooting Dean a look of annoyance over the little girl’s shoulder when he had started to smile wryly.

“Right, well, let’s get you downstairs.”

* * *

CJ smacked Dean’s arm once they had gotten out of the house, rolling her eyes in annoyance and heading toward her car, “Thanks for that. I get that you Winchesters are really awkward in situations where you don’t really kill anything or burn anything, but could you take a second to understand that I need to be given a summary before I’m thrown into the fray? I just got back from dealing with a woman stuck in the fifties.”

“Yikes,” he flinched, nodding a bit and offering her an unsure smile, “Thanks for that, I guess. So, what was the bag and chain for?”

“Bag had moonstone, salt and clear quartz, it was to put him in a calmer mood so he wouldn’t attempt to commit and fail at Teddy Bear Stuffing Suicide, and the chain was to bar the door, just in case.”

“Sam and I will be heading to Lucky Chins, should I be aware of anything?”

“Don’t eat the sandwich and you’ll be fine.” She pat his shoulder briefly before sliding inside of her car, drowning out his confused question with a turn of the engine and a notch of her radio. She gave him a playfully confused expression, fingers shaking by her ear as she shook her head, then smirked, and drove away.

* * *

CJ lounged along the couch of the motel room, her eyes closed as she crossed her ankles over one of the arm rests, her neck resting along the other and her arms folded as if she were in a coffin. Retching and grunts came from the bathroom, as they had been for ten minutes now.

“I  _ told  _ you not to eat the sandwich.”

A louder, pained round of vomiting was the only answer she received, and she shook her head, “I was  _ too, _ specific-! You were going to a  _ chinese _ place-! They don’t  _ serve _ subs. Where would you have gotten one if you did not wish for it?”

A cough, a splutter, and a groan.

“Yes, I speak vomit. It comes with having an older brother named Reeces.”

Another round of soft, pained coughing.

“No, I’m not going to go in there and hold your hand.”

“I..” a hacking sound came, “didn’t ask..” more vomit.

“I know, I was just screwing with you on that one.”

More coughing.

“You wash that mouth out-! I am not a bitch-!”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

Sam entered the motel room a few minutes later, during another round of Dean’s attempts at upchucking his stomach. “Dean-? Dean, you alright-?”

Seemingly finding his sea legs, the elder Winchester managed to pry himself from the toilet long enough to speak. “The wishes turn bad, Sam.. the wishes turn very bad..” Another round of vomiting, and Sam shook his head as he looked around the room. CJ was sprawled out on the couch, relaxed, as she flicked her eyes open and turned to look up at Sam curiously.

“The sandwich?” he asked.

She nodded. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he walked forward, to the end of the couch and swat at her thigh. “Move over.”

“Make me.”

His eyebrows rose a bit at the challenge in her voice, the mirth in her eyes gleaming with something akin to delight, “Why do  _ you  _ look so happy?”

“No particular reason..” she murmured, grinning to herself as she tucked her chin to her chest and giggle, “No particular reason at  _ all _ ..”

“Vision?” he asked. Some days she woke up screaming, others she fell out of her places laughing her ass off. It was a toss up these days.

“Did you.. really..?” she opened her mouth to start, then stopped, closing it with a purse of her lips when Dean managed to exit the bathroom on unsteady legs.

He’d ask later.

“The coin is Babylonian,” he gasped, bringing the towel in his hand to his mouth to wipe it, “It’s cursed.. I found some fragments of a legend, but-” he gagged, turning on his heel and practically diving for the toilet again as his stomach tried to empty itself of its protective acids.

“The serpent was Tiamat, which is the Babylonian god of primordial chaos,” CJ read out the line as if it were her own, and she turned her head slowly toward the door when Dean had drawn back out with a cough. “Right?”

He nodded slowly, flashing her a petulant look before he grabbed a beer from the fridge and moved to sit at the only single chair. Sam was bent over a bit reading the laptop screen, while his other hand was reaching behind him to grab CJ’s leg and push it out of the way so he could plop down onto the couch as well. CJ made a noise of playful annoyance, wiggling her hips a bit to get comfy again before kicking out her legs and lying them across the brunette’s lap. Dean ignored the smile that tried to crawl its way across Sam’s lips, instead choosing to shake his head and wipe his mouth. His throat was dry.

“I guess her priests were working some serious Black Magic.”

“They made the coin?” Sam frowned.

“Yeah,” Dean’s breathing was heavy, and he tried to bring it back down. “To sow the seeds of Chaos. Whoever tosses the coin in a wishing well, makes a wish; it turns  _ on _ the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers.”

“But the wishes get twisted,” Sam finished with a nod, the hand that had been resting on CJ’s calf drumming his fingers in his thought rhythmically. “You ask for a talking teddy..”

“You get a bipolar nutjob,” Dean nodded.

“And you get E. coli,” Sam echoed with CJ, the taller brunette flashing his eyes down at her when she merely hummed, eyes still shut as she relaxed. “Seriously, what's up with you?”

“I took a nap and I do  _ not  _ regret it,” CJ murmured, her smile warm as she tilted her head to the side, “Fuck it- Sam,” she opened her eyes, then, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she gave him an earnest, questioning look. “Do nachos  _ really _ taste good with marshmallows on them?”

“What?” he deadpanned. He was so confused. Both brothers simply staring at her when she turned her eyes between them, then sighed, whining a bit, “Screw it, it’s years coming, I may as well enjoy the rest of it..” She settled back down with a grunt, her shoulders relaxing with a sigh as her head tilted to the left. “I love it when I get flashback moments.. They’re usually so sweetly sad and hazy..”

“I don’t even want to know..” Dean murmured after a minute. “This coin- this thing has turned more than one town upside down over the centuries- it’s even wiped a few off of the map-! I mean, if one person gets their wish it’s trouble, but everybody gets their wish..?”

“Its Chaos,” Sam huffed.

“Mm-hm,” Dean nodded.

“Any way to stop it?” Sam asked quietly, his eyes roving the details on the page beside the coin.

“We gotta find the wisher,” Dean nodded his head, sighing a bit through his nose as he did so, “Whoever dropped the coin and and made the first wish, they’re the only one who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. So for now, we got a couple a’ nutso dreams come true, but.. Once the word gets out about the well.. Things are just gonna get crazier and crazier.”

* * *

CJ sat beside Dean as he lied on the bed, dead asleep and squirming. He was gasping silently beneath his breath, sweat beading his brow and neck as he restlessly gripped the sheets between stiff fingers.

Biting her lip, she stretched out along the bed beside him, shifting so her shoulder was in the pillow. She took a deep, slow breath in, and relaxed.

_ “Hey Jude.. don’t make it bad.. Take a sad song.. And make it better..” _

She could feel Sam’s gaze lift from his laptop, but she kept her eyes shut. She wouldn’t have the guts to keep going if she looked at him.

“ _ Remember, to let her into your heart.. Then you can start.. To make it better.. Hey Jude.. don’t be afraid.. You were made to.. Go out and get her.. The minute, you let her under your skin.. Then you begin, to make it better.. _ ” He had stilled a bit at the sound of her voice, rhythmic and sweet, soft as it reached his bloody nightmare behind his eyes.

“ _ And anytime you feel the pain.. Hey Jude, refrain.. Don’t carry the world, upon your shoulders.. For well you know that it’s a fool.. Who plays.. It cool.. By making his world, a little colder.. Nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, nah-ah-aaaah..” _

Dean had stopped squirming, and CJ relaxed, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. “ _ Hey Jude.. don’t let me down.. You have found her, now go and get her.. Remember, to let her into your heart.. Then you can start, to make it better.. So let it out, and let it in. Hey Jude, begin, you’re waiting for someone to perform with.. And don’t you know that’s it’s just you? Hey Jude, you’ll do.. The movement you need is on your shoulder.. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, yeah.. _ ” He frowned a little in his sleep, although the restlessness was gone. He stirred a bit, his eyes flickering behind his eyelids as he was drawn from his sleep to the sweet voice.

_ Mom..? No-.. but, who..? _

“ _ Hey Jude, don’t make it bad.. Take a sad song, and make it better.. Remember, to let her under your skin, then you’ll begin, to make it better..”  _ The voice was soothing, like a gentle, rocking boat, even and flowing around his mind, clearing his memories of Hell with ease and relaxing his stiff shoulders. Cooling the phantom pains. 

“ _ Better better better better better, oh.. Nah- nah, nah, nah-nah-nah-nah.. Nah nah nah-nah.. Hey Jude.. Nah, nah-nah nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah.. Hey Jude.. Nah, nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah. Hey, Jude.. Nah, nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah.. Hey Jude.. _ ”

His eyes flickered open, and he was left staring at a curtain of chocolate colored hair. Hazel eyes he had subconsciously memorized were hidden behind pale eyelids, clean white teeth peeking from behind petal pink lips. “ _ Nah, nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah.. Hey Jude.. Nah, nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah.. Nah-nah-nah-nah.. Hey-”  _ her eyes open and her throat constricted, face paling beneath the sight of spring mint watching her intently. “ _ J..ude.. _ ”

You couldn’t have cut the air with a damn steak knife..

“Well,” CJ was the first to jump off of the bed, much more coordinated than her usual scrambling, and managed to get to her feet in a matter of seconds, reaching both hands up to tug her hair into a makeshift ponytail, her back to him as she stared at the ceiling. “Now that you’ve been sufficiently awoken by my atrocious voice, you should probably take a look at what Sam found a few seconds ago..”

“How did you know that I-?” Sam tried to speak, but she was already talking over him, reaching for her bag and speed walking for the door, “ _ ANY _ way, I should run out, there are some calls I need to make and all that jazz and I really should-” a ring of a phone cut her off, and she looked down at her bag quickly before grinning sheepishly, “Well, would you look at that, I gotta take this-  _ bye _ .”

The door shut quickly behind her, and she slumped against it as her chest heaved up and down in panic. Shit, he had pretty eyes..

And the look on his face was nothing a woman should get from anyone  _ but _ her husband in the morning..

_ Fffffuuuuccckkk- _

“You know, if you pray for me to call you, the polite thing to do is pick up.”

CJ nearly jumped form her skin at the sound of the person directly in front of her, taking a deep, heaving breath before giving him a defeated look. “Sorry.. Just.. I panicked..”

“What happened?” Gabriel’s eyebrow flicked up and she grimaced, rolling her shoulders as she looked toward one end of the hallway, before starting to walk down the other. She may as well go shopping. Or, sightseeing. Or rent a paddleboat. There was a good few things to do.

“I.. woke up one of the boys this morning.. By singing to him.. I.. knew he was having PTSD flashbacks in his sleep, so I started singing the lullabye his mother always sang to him as a child and he woke up and-..”

“And you panicked,” Gabriel finished. She nodded slowly, and he let out a whistle, shaking his head. “Jeez. Didn’t she.. You know.. Get killed..?”

“By Azazel, the demon that kickstarted the seal breaking in the first place.” CJ nodded slowly. Gabriel hummed, looping his arm through hers and flashing them outside to her car. Stairs were tedious anyhow. “C’mon. I saw a pancake place down the road. They’ll be busy the rest of the day, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, tossing her bag into the backseat and sliding into the drivers while Gabriel hopped into shotgun. “Sorry for calling you.. I just..”

“Don’t worry about it,” he scoffed, “I wasn’t doing anything worth mentioning.”

“Thank Lollipops,” she chuckled, pulling Cleo out of the lot and helping her to coast down the street. “Because I would hope I didn’t interrupt anything serious.”

“Like?”

Her face flushed almost immediately, and he openly laughed at her. “Seriously?”

“Don’t even start with me.” Her mutter was petulant, but her face was burning as she pulled into the local diner, with pancake advertisements on the windows facing toward the street. “It’s too early for you to make jabs at me.”

“Oh Lollipop, it’s never too early for that.”

“Stop calling me Lollipop,” she murmured, lifting a hand to rub at her cheeks as they exit the car. “It’s CJ..”

“What’s that stand for?”

“Nunya,” she quipped.

“No, now you’ve got me curious,” he grinned, narrowing his eyes as they moved in sync and sat at a corner booth. “What does CJ stand for?”

“I’m not a prophet so you won’t know my name,” she shook her head, then grimaced, rubbing at her cheeks again as her eyes closed, “Oh damn.. He was staring at me when he woke up.. It was so awkward..”

“Why don’t you just screw them and get it over with?” he asked casually, lifting the little dessert menu propped up by the window and condiments basket with a raise of his eyebrows. “I mean, you said you practically idolized them before you figured out they were real, so to speak, right?”

“Yes, and no,” she frowned, “Yes, I idolized them, no, I’m not sleeping with either of them. For one, Sam is currently pumped up with rage and homicidal hormones. Two, Dean is going through PTSD and needs as few attachments as currently possible in the romance department. He can barely keep himself together right now.. Forty years is a long time to humans, Gabe..”

“Apparently so,” he hummed.

* * *

 

Anyone interested in joining the mashup chapter with the characters in a mock convention panel will need to inform me via PM on this site, that way I can get your details like hair color, clothes preferences, etc. 

Thank you,

Pistol


	50. Chapter 50

“Todd?” CJ stepped out of the boutique she had entered with three more bags added to the growing piles on her arm. The little blonde haired boy with the shaggy haircut was just passing her. Far ahead, she could see the group of boys from the day prior climbing quickly in a panic to get into an SUV. 

Todd stopped, turning his head to the side to look at the woman with surprise, “Miss Jordan-!” “Heya Todd,” she nodded, pointedly looking from him, to the children slamming the doors behind them and screaming. “What, a.. What’s up, dude?”

“I made a wish at the fountain-!” he perked up then, a bright smile coming to his face that had her heart melting a little. Poor boy, children really were cruel.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, shifting the bags on her arm and tilting her head, “And what did you wish for? And where?”

“Lucky Chins-!” he grinned, pointing excitedly down the street toward the restaurant, “I wished that I could be as strong as a superhero-!”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, letting out a slow, deep breath, before walking toward her car, “Hang on, how about I take you on a date?”

“A.. a date?” he looked confused.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, she dropped a bag, and it spilled, a sharp ‘crap’ coming from her lips as she got to her knees then and looked under it. Near the center, far from her reach, was a gift-wrapped scented candle. “Oh no..”

Distantly she heard a familiar, roaring rumble pull up along the road beside them to a stop, but Todd had already hurried to her side and stopped beside her with a bright, eager smile. “Hang on- I got it-!”

“Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to dirty your-” she cut herself off when he grabbed the underside of her car, pushing his arms up and over his head with ease as he held Cleo elevated. 

“Now you can get it-!” he smiled.

She reached quickly over to grab the candle, scrambling to her feet as he carefully lowered her car and gave her a sweet smile, “So you want me to show you Lucky Chins?”

“Y.. Yeah..” she murmured.

“That way-!”

“..Okay.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit- Sam-!” CJ kneeled beside the man lying on the ground, shoes discarded and socks burned. “Holy shit- you were hit by lightning.. Okay.. this is fine.. This is okay.. Everything is okay..” Her arms were wound around his shoulders and Todd stood by with a worried look on his face. Sam’s face was pressed into her shoulder and neck, and she slowly rocked back and forth on her heels. “Please, don’t have changed it. Please, dear Lollipops, don’t have changed it.”

After a few minutes, she felt a jolt in her arms, and Sam had turned in her grasp with a hiccup of breath. His hands found her face, and he was gasping, trying to breath regularly as he darted his eyes first around her, then along her, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Oh, thank PIE-!” CJ cried dramatically, her body practically drooping with the strain of the larger man as he turned in his spot. “You’re okay-! Sam- I think you got hit by-”

Warm, insistent lips sealed over her own, and her thought process died. 

Dean exit Lucky Chins several long moments after Hope had walked away, he had to make sure Sam was alright.

After giving Wesley a quick, dismissing pat on the shoulder (after swiping the coin, of course) he bolted for the doorway and pulled to a sudden stop on the sidewalk.

Sam sat on his knees, his shoes having flown off a few feet away. He was hovered over someone smaller, his right hand cupping their face and his left arm crushing their torso to his.

What the Hell..?

“Sam-!” he called out quickly, rushing over just as his brother had pulled away. A dazed, startled CJ sat pliantly on her knees on the concrete. Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted, face flushed and hands curled limply in front of her like useless claw machine hooks. “Ah-Ahn..?”

“I’m fine,” the taller brunette reassured the stunned, staring blonde, turning back to the woman still staring listlessly at the space behind him. “CJ, are you okay..? CJ?”

When she didn’t respond, he hurried to his feet, pulling her along with him as he kept her securely in his arm, “CJ, say something. CJ.”

“What the fuck..”

Her words were mumbled, but audible to both brothers, and she lifted up her hands to cover her eyes, “Oh Christ- did I get hit with lightning..? I feel like I just got zapped out of a vision..”

“That was me, I think,” Sam shook his head, a small, teasing smile coming to his face, though there was a hesitance there, as well, “Are you okay.. You’re.. Dazed.”

“I have no idea what just happened,” she murmured, her hands drug down her face slowly, and she shot her wide, confused eyes to Dean before letting her hands fall down to clap sharply, “Fuck.. right, case.. Coin? Did he pull it out-?”

“Yeah, Sam.. what just..?”

“I’m going to pretend the last five minutes  _ did not  _ happen,” CJ cut in, loudly, from her place between the brothers, raising her hands up high in the air as if preaching, “And I swear to all things deep fried and smothered in chocolate, if either of you bring it up I am driving to Bobby’s.”

Both boys shut their mouths, having opened them to say something or another, and she nodded at the silence. “Good. I’m going back to the room. See you later.”

Dean watched her hair flick behind her in the speed she took off, practically throwing herself into her car and peeling away at the highest level of speed legal. 

“Sam..” his voice was quiet, and a strain of annoyance was audible, though his eyes spoke of the actual level of irritation, “What was that?”

“I’m..” he started, then stopped, his eyes watching the blue tail of Cleo disappear around the block corner, “not entirely sure. I woke up and she was.. She was there, so..”

“So you kissed her out of the blue,” Dean finished, sniffing a bit as he wiped his face, “All right, well, that’s your bed, you made it, you can lie in it. I’m going back to the room to get my crap together.”

“Yeah, right..”

“Sam,” Dean’s voice cut into his daze, and the brunette blinked quickly before looking down at his steely-eyed brother. “What? Sorry, I was..”

“...Just come on.”

* * *

And that marks the end of _Wishful Thinking_ -!

Anyone interested in the mock convention chapter needs to post their questions in the comment sections from here on out, I'll just work out details on the askers through that. This special chapter WILL take time, so it will be a while until it's posted, due to the need for a decent amount of questions and/or requests, though I will continue to regularly post the actual story. (And maybe some off chapters of my own creation and CJ's ingenious). 

As always, thank you SO much for reading the Balance series-!

And, if anyone is _interested_ , CJ has a cousin in a similar situation in a separate work.

Otherwise, you can find out what would have happened if CJ had been sent to the Michael Bayverse.

Toodles,

Pistol

 


	51. Lost Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to post your questions for the special chapter in the comments sections-! ;)

“Remind me,  _ again _ , why I can’t just sit in the car to file my reports?”

CJ’s voice was quipped in both anger and annoyance. She’d been having a bad week. First, some wanna-be black-hat hacker tried to slip into her basedrive, needless to say, to marginally lower her irritation, his monitor on every available device would be nothing but crudely drawn, child-hand duck pictures. And screaming goat noises at irregular intervals throughout his day.

She received an apologetic email from her agency, as well, when they informed her of their failed attempt at catching one of the big kahuna she’d given them numerous piles of detail over.

Apparently some dumbass decided he’d brief through it and walk directly into the guard rotation.

Fucking dumbass.

“ _ Because _ ,” Dean sighed, watching her fingers fly across the keys like lightning and her already messy hair get pushed back once again in agitation, “You’ve been jittery and up-the-walls all week, I’d rather keep you in my sights.”

“Sweet,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before reaching for one of her ordered fries.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” he scoffed, a playful tint to his tone as he narrowed his own mint-green orbs.

Closing her laptop, much to the Winchester’s slight surprise, she slid it into the case at her hip, and lifted one leg up to cross her knees. She turned to face him in her barstool, one elbow braced on the bar and her hand cupping her chin as she gave him a wide-eyed, intense stare.

“Alright, you have my attention,” she murmured. “What?”

Dean thumbed a bit around his beer, biting the inner lining of his lip as he tried to go about this. “Have you..  _ Seen _ .. anything lately..?”

“Nothing you’re going to like,” she answered flippantly. “Next question, the  _ real _ reason you dragged me in here, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I didn’t drag you in here,” he scoffed.

“You swiped my backpack from the seat and walked inside, I’d classify that as dragging,” she rolled her eyes again, and Dean grunted as he lifted his drink to his lips, “Seriously, knock it off. Stop rolling your eyes like a kid.”

“I’m a brat, deal with it,” she grumbled. Lowering her arm, she gently rested her forehead into her elbow, blowing out a low, suffering sigh. “Christ, I am not in the mood for bullshit today..”

“Any particular reason?”

“Brace yourself,” she scoffed, lifting her eyes to Dean with a bit of a glare, “You’ll want to gank the bitch about as much as I do when she comes waltzing in.”

“Who?” he sat up straighter in his seat, his eyes now alert, but the wave of her hand had him slightly annoyed. “It can wait, for now. Go to Sam. He’s signalling you, pretty sure that barfly’s ripe for swindling.”

He frowned at that, then shook his head, leaving his stool to help his brother.

It was only ten seconds before the woman had popped into the seat beside her. Looking for all the world like a casual bar-hopper.

“Hello Emerald,” CJ sighed, turning her head and twisting in her seat to face the raven-haired woman. Ruby wrinkled her nose a bit at the jab, but kept cool, her eyes darting to the boys a ways away behind the brunette, “You better have news for the boys. Or I’ll tattoo that demon mist inside of that body and go to town on that lifeless corpse for the rest of eternity with your precious little knife..”

“Sometimes I wonder why they can’t see how sadistic you are under all that girly crap,” Ruby muttered, ducking her head a bit before lifting it to find Sam again. “Only God knows how far you’ve got them buried in your bullshit.”

“I’ve told them nothing but the truth,” CJ smiled, letting her sharp canines flash to the woman in warning, “And you will do better to watch that mouth. I hate God. Keep your trap shut until Sam sees you in three, two, one..”

There was a crack of billiard balls, and CJ turned in her seat to face the boy’s table. Sam had looked up just a few moments later, seeing both CJ, watching him with dark, almost predatory eyes, and a familiar, raven-haired woman just behind her, watching him much the same, with a soft, faint smirk.

Sam was the first to reach them, his voice quiet and a bit tense as he glanced between the girls. CJ wasn’t surprised. “Hey..”

“Well, you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up anywhere near me,” Dean reached the corner in a huff, and he shot CJ an almost offended look, which she paired with a subtle shake of her head.

“I just have some info then I’m gone,” she spat, clearly annoyed with his presence. Sam took a step closer, his voice more consistent than before. “What is it?”

Her expression visibly softened, and the bite in her tone had lessened to a gentle nip. “I’m hearing a few whispers.” “Oh great-!” Dean quipped, shoulders rolling as they tensed and untensed with his sarcasm, “Demon whispers-! That’s reliable.” Ruby ignored him, keeping her sole focus on Sam, and occasionally CJ. “A girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday.The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently some real heavy hitters turned out for the Easter Egg hunt.”

“Why? Who is she?” Sam was in immediate investigator mode, his back straight and his eyes shifting from focussed to thoughtful. Ruby shook her head. “No idea. But I’m thinking she’s important, because the order is to catch her alive.. I just figured, whatever the deal is, you might want to find this girl before the demons do..”

“Pretty sure  _ Alastair _ is enough of a red-light to know that she’s fucking important,” CJ quipped, throwing back the rest of her beer and turning her head at Dean’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh, don’t you glare at me, I  _ told you _ I was in a shitty mood.”

“Who’s Alastair?” Sam asked quickly, turning his eyes from Dean to CJ with confusion, then back to Ruby, “Who is Alastair?” Ruby looked spooked by the mere name. “He’s.. He’s one of the big-shot demons I was talking about..”

“So help me, Emerald, if you don’t just give us the damned address I will personally inject Holy water into your fucking veins,” CJ was seething at this point, snatching her bag from the chair and dragging it over her shoulder before slamming her payment on the table. She turned her eyes to Dean then, reaching over and snatching his hand, holding it between both of hers and closing her eyes. “Calm.  _ Down _ . I feel like I’m about to throw a table..”

Ruby darted her eyes between the two humans with acute interest, but Sam had stepped into her line of sight, blocking her view as he took a hold of both of CJ’s shoulders, pulling her backwards until her back had pressed tightly to his front. “CJ, what’s going on?”

“As much as I love redheads this one makes me want to commit homicide,” CJ grumbled. Dean was still staring at her resolutely. They would need to talk. CJ continued, feeling his gaze, but knowing they needed to hurry. “Let’s just.. Do this case and go.. This is a domino effect I’m not sure I have the patience to play along with..”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam nodded, his hands were warm and firm as they squeezed her shoulders and they lingered, even after Dean pulled away to pay the rest of the bill. His face was stony.

* * *

“Conner Beverly Behavioral Medical Center.” CJ lounged in the back of the Impala as she flipped through another book. She had just finished several  _ hours  _ of prayers and Sam was just finding the information he needed to make a call. He looked over the seat at her admission, his eyes shining with confusion, imploring her to start giving more detail, but Dean sat resolutely in place, hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to be white.

He’d talk to her later.

“No,” Natasha quipped, looking up only long enough to see the brunette’s burning eyes before turning back to her book. “No. I’m not dealing with this bitch. Not happening. Never. No.”

“So you’ve seen her,” Sam concluded. He itched to reach for his journal, but knew it would only aggravate her further. “Well, what can we expect?”

“You’ll be jumping out of a stained glass window,” Natasha snorted, a frown touching her face as she furrowed her eyebrows, “Also.. I’m going to need to invest in a better mode of transport. I am not going to sit in this backseat again for the next three months, or until it’s deep-cleaned, at the least.”

“Why would the Impala need to be deep cleaned?” Sam frowned.

“Trust me,” Natasha growled, slouching a bit as she savoured her favorite spot for as long as she could. “You don’t even want to know..”

“Dare  _ I _ ask,” Dean sounded a bit quipped, but the mention of his baby had his nerves on end for a much safer reason. He could kick ass for that  _ separately  _ from his Hell-fiasco.

“You’re the cause, don’t get snippy.”

“..Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ .”

“Gross..” Sam wrinkled his nose, but a smile had curled across his lips as he gave CJ a smile, “I feel sorry for you..”

“I’ll sit on your lap if I damn well need to,” the female grimaced, lifting a hand to cover her eyes as she shuddered. “Oh  _ fuck- nowit’sinmyheadnonononono- _ ”

“Gross,” Sam winced, then hesitantly added, “Well, what else are you going to tell us?”

“She’s hiding in a church, but I don’t know which one..” she murmured, lifting a hand to her forehead and pressing down, “Her sketchbook.. It has drawings of the window.. But there’s a picture of the place at her parent’s home.. They’re already dead, several days, dead, now. But.. She doesn’t know..”

“Anything else?” Dean bit.

“Not at the moment,” she whispered. Her head pounded, and she groaned, feeling the twinge of pain in her gut and brain. “Hang on, I need to make a call..”

“Who are you calling?” Sam frowned.

“A friend,” she muttered, pulling out her phone and bringing it to her ear as she lied down in her seat, sinking further into the sweet leather. It rang twice.

“ _ Yellow, Lollipop _ ~”

“Hello, Sweetheart,” she replied in a similar, though pained, twang, seeing Sam’s surprised expression from the corner of her eye, but closing her eyes to ignore it, “Question.. That  _ thing  _ we did.. Was it supposed to have a period of time where I’m.. icky _ - _ ?”

“ _ You have a headache- _ ?”

“Yeah.”

“ _ Stomach hurt- _ ?”

“Mhm.”

“ _ You’re sick, not hurt. Do you need me _ -?”

“What’s with the sudden anxiety-? If I’m sick, I’m sick, I’m just.. headsick, then-? Is that what they call emotional rollercoasters-?”

“ _ I believe that’s called “Hormonal” _ ,” he drawled.

“I’ll ‘Hormonal’ your fucking ass if you ever say that to me again.”

“ _ Bad week _ -?”

“Yessss,” she hissed, throwing her head back with a groan of pain, “My eyes hurt and I need ice-cream..”

“We’re a few hours out,” Dean spoke from the front seat. He sounded calmer, but there was a strand of apology in his voice. “Are.. Are you sick..?”

“ _ Oooh~ Was that one of the _ -”

“Not a word,” CJ bit into the phone, “Not  _ one _ word. Do you hear me-? No commentary.”

“ _ Jeesh, I was just gonna say tell ‘em ‘hi’ for me _ .”

“You know that is never going to happen..”

“ _ Eh, a guy can dream _ .”

“I still ship it, make no mistake, you two are fucking adorable together.”

“ _ Aww, really _ ~?”

“You’re a dork, but thank you,” she sighed, wiping what she now knew to be sickness sweat from her forehead, “Fucking wonderful, I don’t have the time to be sick..”

“ _ It’ll pass, just sleep and.. I’ll shoot myself later for saying it- eat something that  _ **_isn’t_ ** _ sugar-based _ ..”

“Holy hell, did you really just say that-?” CJ sounded actually shocked as she sat up, and Sam shot her a look of confusion and concern, “Dude-.. Dude this is  _ you _ we’re talking about- what kind of advice is that-?”

“ _ I shudder at the horror of my own mouth, but please take that into consideration. You kind of got a draw-back on the whole ‘unable to be affected by grace’ thing _ ..”

“Yeah, no shit,” she murmured, sniffing as she lifted her arm to check her watch. “Hey, what time is it for you?”

“ _ Six-twenty-six in the morning _ .”

“W.. Where are you, Fiji?”

‘...”

“Are you really stalling right now? You’re stalling-!”

“ _ I’m not stalling _ ,” he argued, “ _ I’m taking a break _ .”

“How hard is it to look for a burnt church in Spain with an evil pull?”

“ _ It’s not as easy as you think _ .”

“You’re in  _ Fiji _ , I would  _ assume _ the search is going nowhere. Need I remind you that a woman will  _ die _ if we do not find it?”

“ _ I’m starting to think this is less about helping my brother and more about saving that red-head you mentioned. You went dooey-eyed when you mentioned her _ .”

“Don't you  _ dare  _ bring my sexual attraction to red-headed women into this, or so help me, I will revoke your access to my homemade baked goods.”

“ _ Hey-Hey-! No need to get hostile _ -!”

“Cut me some slack, I’m about to go to war with a bitch and I am not happy.”

“ _ Yeesh. Calm down. Why don’t you try listening to the sounds of African rain on your laptop or something _ ..”

“You know, that actually sounds kind of nice..” CJ’s tones lowered in thought, and she turned her eyes up toward the ceiling of the car with faint concentration, “Like.. sleepy nice..”

“ _ I’ll drop in if it gets worse to see if I can do anything, but if you’re with the yahoos, I can back off _ .”

“I’ll call if it gets unbearable, then,” she sighed, then hesitated, before adding, “And.. thank you.. For the concern.”

_ “Hey, we’re a team. I need you in tip-top form _ .”

“And I need that disgusting book. But we can’t  _ all _ have what we need.”

“ _ Yeah, yeah, I’ll put the margaritas on hold and book it to Spain. Anything else on your oh-so-important grocery list-? _ ”

“More Holy Oil if you can,” CJ sniffed, frowning, “You can never really have too much..”

“... _ Should I be worried _ -?”

“It’s for traps, not killing. Keep your knickers on.”

“ _ See ya’ later, Lollipop _ .”

“Bye Sweetheart- and Sweets-?”

“ _ Mhm- _ ?”

“Please don’t get hurt.”

“ _ I’ll take that as concern. _ ”

“Take it however you want. I gotta go. I’m getting the stink-eye from the moose.”

“I’m not a moose,” Sam protested, though Gabriel’s laughter in her ear almost drowned it out. Even Dean cracked a cough and a smile.

“Of course not, Sam,” CJ agreed sweetly, giving him a false smile before going back to her phone, “Now, for real this time. See you soon.”

“ _ See you soon _ .”

She hung up, and sighed, grimacing as she squirmed in her place, trying to get comfortable. “Well, that was a slight waste of time.”

“What’s in Spain?” Dean asked a few seconds later. “A disgusting book? Define disgusting.”

“Made from the skin and blood of a nun devoted to breaking every known curse to mankind and beyond,” CJ quipped. “Pretty sure it could cure and open almost anything.”

“Sounds like black magic,” Dean’s voice took on an edge.

“Oh, it very well could be, in the wrong hands,” CJ nodded, agreeing, “But in the right hands, well.. It saves a lot of people.. This is a book you guys are going to absolutely need in the future, just like you need my Grigori sword, just like you need the Holy Oil, and just like all the other things I buy or do are to prepare you for the absolute fuckfest that comes  _ after _ the Apocolypse.”

“What comes after the apocalypse,” Sam demanded, turning in his seat to give her a severe look. “Is it bad?”

“When has anything ever been  _ good _ , Sam?” CJ blinked at him slowly. “Honest to goodness, give me a three year time period where neither of you have come close to dying or the world hasn’t been on the brink of mass genocide.”

“Fair enough,” Sam quipped, before his eyes hardened, “But what comes after the apocalypse?”

“Nothing you two can control,” she smiled then, a dull, pained thing that looked just on the edge of feral, “Oh, that one is  _ entirely _ on the angels.”

“The angels,” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows higher as he glanced at her in the rearview, “Winged, Halo, good-guy personified angels?”

“I can count on one hand the number of angels that are actually good, beginning to end,” CJ’s voice was nothing short of irritated as she glared out the front windshield, folding her arms over the back of the boy’s bench seat and resting her chin atop them with a pout. “By the way.. If we see any, don’t be shocked if I make a break for it and run to hug them..  _ Any _ angel that I find hug-worthy will be on the ‘immediate tackle’ list. So if I suddenly break off in a sprint and there’s nothing behind me, assume I’m pouncing on a celestial bean.”

“Good to know..” Dean murmured.

“It  _ is _ good to know,” CJ grinned, “That means if we wind up in Carthage, Missouri around midnight, and I take off running, don’t freak.”

“That was eerily specific,” Sam muttered.

“I try,” CJ grinned.


	52. Chapter 52

“Did you get the sketchbook?” CJ’s question was immediate when the men got back to the abandoned house. She had, politely informed them, that they would not be staying in any motel. And that they would need to be in and out of the Milton’s house as soon as possible.

Sam held up the brown leather book, and she pounced off of her seat to snatch it. “Gimme, gimme-! She’s awful but I love her drawings- plus I need to cross reference the damn window design- and I don’t have the best memory for colors. Events, dialogue, and places I can do- colors? Outfits? Not so much.”

Sam lifted it higher than her reach allowed for a moment, narrowing his eyes playfully when she made a single, hopped jump, moving it with the difference so her fingertip only grazed the cover. “Dammit Sam-! Give it here-!”

“Grab it,” he encouraged her casually, as if she hadn’t started hopping like the energizer bunny to reach for it, and he wasn’t lifting it higher with each jump she made. “You can get it.”

“Stop flirting,” Dean cut into the banter, and CJ took Sam’s lack of attention to lift her leg up and put her knee at his hip. He looked back at her quickly, feeling the tug at the collar of his shirt, and she was lifting herself up a second later, one leg wound around his waist and the other hanging limply to the floor, while her right arm clung to his shoulder and her left snatched the book from his monster paws.

She crowed with a quick, celebrating laugh, giving him a slight, glaring smile as she waved it a bit. “Hey, Sam-? I got it.”

His left hand was at her hip, keeping her upright, or, keeping her firmly in place, as she tried to wriggle out from her perch. She shot him a glare, but he was already tightening his hold, and walking forward, past Dean, who had stared blankly at the exchange for a moment, before depositing her onto the old, worn couch she had claimed in the creaky, falling apart house she had seen in her vision.

She let out a whoosh of breath, glaring at him as she attempted to fix her hair, and making a point to stick out her tongue spitefully before cracking open the book and flipping through the pages. “Dean, my laptop’s on the table, can you get it, please?”

He did so, before gathering his thoughts enough to speak. “We already have the Milton address,” the elder Winchester finally spoke when she had pulled open the search tab and began typing in numbers he didn’t understand. Rolling his eyes he ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head. “Me and Sam can head out now, and pick you up after, or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”

“I’m armed, and the place is salted, tight,” she shrugged, frowning as she rolled her shoulder, then shook her head, “Damnit, which one of you is tense-?”

The boys shared a look, before turning back to her with similar expressions of unease. Sam’s less so, however. He’d already had a few of her deep-tissue massages. Dean was still skeptical about it.

“Nevermind, I don’t care,” she muttered, sighing as she shook her head and gave them a stern look. “Go to the house, see if you can find the church address. Should be nearby. I’m looking into everything I can to make this go smooth and I’ll update Bobby while you’re gone.”

“...I’d actually rather you came with us.”

Dean’s dismissal had her pause, and she looked up and over to him in surprise, his expression casual, and unconcerned. “I mean, how you’re saying it, is that demons are crawling all over this town, right? I’d feel better about the plan if you were with us.”

CJ blinked slowly at him, gently closing her laptop. She didn’t say a word.

_ Well.. If this was his silent way to say he needed help dealing with Alastair.. _ .

“Okay, just let me get my bag. I’ll need to get the holy water guns and my sword, then, too.”

“Why do you need the sword?” Sam asked, several minutes later while she was sorting through the items in the car. She didn’t look the least bit excited about this. “Worst case scenario?” she shrugged. “CJ, it’s a sword,” Sam deadpanned, sliding into the front seat after opening the back for her to pop in. “Are you sure you don’t just want to run around with it-?”

“Sam, I’m not Dean, I don’t go goey-eyed over old swords,” she stuck out her tongue. Dean scoffed, sliding into his seat just before she’d made the comment and giving her a strained, yet playful stinkeye. “I do not go goey-eyed over old swords.”

“I have the proof,” CJ grinned slyly, pursing her lips in jest before leaning back into her seat. “Oh, sweet, untainted leather, I’m going to miss you..”

“Who said it’s untainted?” Dean quipped.

“Eww-!”

“Dean, gross-!”

The elder Winchester grinned.

* * *

CJ chilled outside of the house while the boys went in, her eyes peeled as she glared around the neighborhood. She couldn’t see anything, but that meant Jack squat with supernatural in general.

“Satisfied?” CJ called, seeing the boys exit the house with looks of slight frustration. “So, you got a set address or are we cruising for the place?”

“I found a flyer with the address,” Sam held up a bake-sale flyer long past its date, the yellow, crinkled paper displaying the event with cheerful clipart and crazy fonts with crosses in every corner of the page.

“Sweet,” CJ clicked her tongue, pulling herself back into the gleaming, clean Impala with a soft sigh.

Just a bit longer..

* * *

“Oh, this place is uppity-do,” CJ grumbled, pumping one of the water guns she had pulled from behind her. She had three strapped along her back, and a couple hand-sized ones in her little play thigh holsters. There was also a real gun in her back pocket, with devils traps carved into all of the bullets. She’d shoot two into Alistair, and hopefully they wouldn’t have to jump out of a window to escape. It was a really high window.

“It’s a church,” Dean grumbled, seeing the tension coiling tighter and tighter in the girl’s shoulders as they coasted to a stop. His tone lowered, and became less biting, although his voice was still a bit gruff. “Got everything?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, taking a deep, heavy breath in before rubbing her eyes, and shaking out her hands, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do this. Brace yourself, though, okay?”

“Should we be concerned?” Sam asked as they exit the car. CJ’s voice was low, and her words strained. “The second the statue starts bleeding, draw your damn gun..”

They made quick work of coming inside, CJ still drumming her fingers restlessly along the handle of her holy water gun and teeth grit and grinding slowly with nerves.

This would be her first fight.

And it was with a torture executive. 

Well, go big or go home.

At least she wouldn’t die.

The bells rang as they hurried up to the second story, where the holiday decor would always have been stored. CJ took a moment to steady her breathing behind Dean, reaching forward quickly when she saw his shoulders twitch at the lightest of sounds. He turned his head back quickly, but her expression was soft, and understanding. Her fingers curled into his jacket, and he briefly reached up to entwine their hands.

His eyes closed and he took two, quick breaths, before letting go of her hand, and standing straight again, the mask falling back over his face with expert precision as he hurried after Sam, who had only gotten about ten feet ahead.

CJ didn’t even bother raising her weapon as she hurried into the storage room, her eyes darting around until they rested on the wood and stained glass divider toward the far wall that hid a utility closet.

“Put your guns away,” she hissed quickly, shooting them a look when they had seen the figure near where she had been staring. “She’s kind of clueless right now.”

They complied after a second, wary of her earlier order, and straightened out a bit for the usual, victim routine.

“Anna-?” Sam called, hesitant and relaxed, though there was a terseness to his lips that had CJ scowling at him before his face relaxed. They all took slow, measure steps toward the divider. Sam continued. “We’re not gonna hurt you..”

“Jeez, Sam, you couldn’t have just told her we come in peace-? Do you know how many bad-guy movies have the bad guys saying just that-?” CJ couldn’t help the snark.

It was a coping mechanism.

“CJ,” Dean rasped, giving her a small, almost painfully obvious glare. He was trying not to smile. “Shut up.”

“We come in peace-!” CJ called, then, ignoring his words with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, “You can come out now, girlie. We’re here to help you out.”

When there was no answer, only a soft, nervous shuffling, Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and CJ gave him a ‘Well, go ahead’ wave.

“My name is Sam,” he called out after a second, his tone being much more gentle now that CJ was back to being pouty and slightly relaxed. “This is my brother Dean, and.. Our  _ friend _ , CJ..”

“Wow, don’t strain yourself, Winchester,” CJ scoffed, grinning wide when she caught Dean’s brief, twitchy smile.

“Sam.. Sam  _ Winchester-? _ ” the light, young voice of the woman carried through the room, sounding surprised, and not at all afraid, as her earlier breathing had said. 

“Uh, yeah,” he called, frowning a bit as he exchanged a look with his brother, and they simultaneously looked to CJ, though she was glancing briefly behind them, tapping her fingers against the gun now that the dialogue was playing out. A young woman with dark orange hair stepped out in front of the purple and opal paned glass window, her cowgirl boots clunking against the marble floor and her loose jeans making a swishing sound against her legs.

“And you’re Dean,” the redhead nodded toward the shorter male, her eyes wide. The light reflected around her, and Dean got a good, long look at the gorgeous woman. “ _ The _ Dean,” she repeated, and she said it like someone who spent their childhood idolizing a tv star. Dean would have been lying if he didn’t feel a bit of warm, confused pride at the way she had said his name.  _ Not even CJ said it like that.. _

...Wherever the Hell that thought came from, he wanted it gone.

“Well, yeah,” he coughed, feeling a bit awkward as he tried to make sense of his errant thoughts and this weird, crazy scenario. “Yes..” 

_ He should not ever, ever think of CJ like that again. If he didn’t smack himself, CJ surely would.. _

Sam looked at him briefly, as if he were certifiably insane, before they turned back to the girl looking at the two like they were the messiah. Well, mostly at Dean..

She started walking forward, a bright, gleeful smile on her face as she looked on in disbelief. “Oh my God..”

“God had nothing to with it,” CJ grumbled, briefly mollified when Sam had looked over, seen the glare on her face, and pressed his hand over her eyes. She swat his hand briefly, and shot him a look, though it faded to a soft smile when he raised his eyes up in mock innocence. The ass.

“The angels talk about you,” Anna was getting faster as she hurried toward them, her face drawn with exhaustion, probably from terror and days of hiding, “You were in Hell. But Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us.”

Anna’s eyes strayed to Sam, and CJ, who were hovered a little away from the moment, watching them with equally concerned eyes, though for different reasons. Her eyes settled on Sam, and she didn’t look a bit affected by her words. “And some of them don’t like you at all.”

“Fuck them,” CJ quipped, earning the redhead’s immediate attention, jumping at the brunette’s next words, “Fuck the angels. The majority of them are brainless drones and the rest of the lot, the ones in power, are absolute assholes. And I firmly believe they have a good few screws loose.”

“How could you say that,” Anna rasped, looking absolutely petrified by this woman’s opinion. “Don’t you understand what’s going on-”

“The Apocalypse, yeah, I’m not daft,” CJ cut her off, “Just don’t talk to me, m’kay? Talk to them, but if you talk to me, I’m going to be mean. This is your only warning.”

With that she walked away, hopping up onto the raised platform with a stomp of her thick combat boots and a huff of her breath. From here, about fifteen feet from the exit, she had a clear shot of the door. 

“So that’s.. CJ..?” Anna murmured, looking a little upset by the revelation, “The angels.. Don’t really like her, either..”

“She threw a shoe at Uriel, I’m not really surprised,” Dean scoffed, shaking his head with a small twitch of his lips. One of her best moments, considering she was still walking.

“The angels talk about you all the time lately,” she brought her eyes back to Dean, the light green pools there looking earnest and eager. She really did think she was looking at Humanity’s Last Hope. “I.. feel like I know you..”

“Now where have I heard that before..” Dean heard his brother mutter.

“So you talk to angels,” Dean ignored him, keeping his focus on the woman they had come to protect. Anna shook her head, looking a bit embarrassed as she flicked her eyes to the ground, then back at him. “Oh no, no way. Uh, they probably don’t even know I exist.. I just kind of.. Overhear them..”

“You overhear them,” Sam repeated, not quite believing her.

“Yeah,” Anna nodded, clearly a bit more comfortable since Sam was being rather polite. “They talk, and sometimes I just.. Hear them in my head..”

“Like..” Dean tried after a moment, looking a bit curious, “..right now?”

“Not right this second,” Anna answered quickly. She looked ready to get on her knees if it would please him. CJ could see it in her face. “But a lot. And I can’t shut them out, there’s so many of them..”

“What language is it in?” CJ couldn’t help but ask, making the girl jump a bit at the sudden voice from the mess of old props. CJ looked curious, so the redhead hesitated, before biting her lip, and shaking her head. “I.. I don’t really know.. It just.. Sort of translates..?”

“Enochian, then,” CJ nodded, sighing a bit as she looked back to the door. “Figures..”

“So,” Dean cut in, trying to get everything straight as he brought the redheads attention immediately, eagerly back to him, “They lock you up with a case of the crazies, when really you.. Were just..” and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought that hit him, “-tuning in to angel radio?”

Anna stopped, looking at him as if she had finally seen the first person to accept her, body, heart and soul. “Yes…  _ Thank you _ ..”

Dean nodded a bit, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced toward CJ. She was pumping another one of the water-guns to a point where the pressure would probably bruise a bastard. Not that he would have minded.

“Anna, when did the voices start?” Sam’s voice cut into his revery, but his eyes were locked on the swoop of CJ’s shoulder as she forced the pump up and down, using as much force as she could without damn near breaking the thing. “Do you remember?”

“I can tell you exactly. September 18th.”

The date made the elder Winchester perk back up, looking from the red-head to Sam, who was giving him a long, knowing stare.

“The day I got out of Hell..”

“First words I heard,” Anna whispered, a revenant sort of look crossing her face with a smile as her eyes fluttered closed. She looked peaceful. “Clear as a bell. Dean Winchester is saved.”

“It would have been a Hell of a lot more awesome if Castiel had screamed “Dibs” on his way out,” CJ cackled. Dean shot his eyes to her in surprise, the tenseness of her shoulders now visible as she brought herself into a crouch facing the door, holding up one of the guns to her shoulder and resting it comfortably. She looked ready to jump into a cage of tigers for a slab of meat. He’d disregard the comment, though Sam had made a bit of a cough, hiding a twitch of a smile. “Destiel for life, Baby. Destiel for life..”

“What do you think?” Dean murmured, glancing toward his brother in clear indecision. Where did they go with this? First they get a prophet, then a chick who hears Angel FM all day?

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s above my pay grade, man..”

“Well,” Dean gave her a quick, charming smile, “At least now we know why the demons want you so bad. When they get a hold of you, they can hear everything the other side’s cooking. You’re 1-900 Angel.”

Anna gave a soft chuckle, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she smiled. It was quiet for a moment, before she sobered up, and hesitated, then nodded her head. “Hey, uhm, do you guys know-.. Are my parents okay-?” The brothers darted quick, panicked looks between each other, but Anna didn’t seem to notice, “I.. I didn’t-”

“I’ll be the mean one later- everybody get your weapons,” CJ’s voice cut into their little conversation like a blade, and Dean had moved to grab the gun from his back pocket a second later, along with a flask of holy water, while Sam hurried to do the same.

Ruby burst in a moment later, brown hair sleek, but clearly stressed. “You got the girl-?”

“Emerald- I swear to all things dipped in chocolate I am two seconds away from popping your ass full of bullets-!” CJ snapped, glaring sharply at the girl from her place before she lifted her hand to her chest, “Dear Lollipops, I felt my heart stutter.. Don’t you know how to fucking knock-?!”

“Ah- her face-!” Anna had backtracked immediately, looking horrified. Ruby looked insulted, but CJ had the energy to laugh. “I know, she’s hideous. I nearly barfed, too.”

“It’s okay, It’s okay-!” Sam assured the panicking redhead, “She’s here to help.”

“Yeah, don’t be so sure,” Dean spoke, though CJ’s voice had chorused with his, and she flashed him a bright, nearly maniacal grin. His grip tightened on his gun, and he relished in the familiar, grounding feeling of the weapon in his palm. 

“We have to hurry-!” Ruby insisted, her voice firm with panic. 

“Why-?” Dean demanded.

“Because a demon’s coming,” Ruby nearly spit the words at him, couldn’t he see how bad the situation was right now-?! “A big timer. We can fight later, Dean.”

“Well that’s pretty convenient,” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit before he narrowed his gaze at CJ. The grin was gone, and she looked like an entirely different person. One knee brought up, the water gun held up to her eye. He shot his attention back to Ruby in a second. “Showing up right when we find the girl, with some big wig on your tail?”

“I didn’t bring him here,  _ you did _ ,” Ruby hissed. 

“What?” Dean scoffed.

“He followed you from the girl’s house,” Ruby nearly yelled, shaking her hands out once toward Sam, begging him with her eyes as if to say ‘Are you seeing this guy right now-? Are you serious-?!’. “We gotta go now-!”

“Dean,” Sam murmured.

The elder Winchester closed his mouth, having opened it to tell the demon-bitch to back off, when his brother pointed behind him, toward the large, ceramic statue of virgin Mary. 

The eyes were leaking blood from the inner corners.

“It’s too late,” Ruby shook her head, her voice trembling as she swallowed. “He’s here..” Her eyes darted around, and the boys drew their guns up high again. CJ didn’t even move.. 

Sam acted instantly, putting a hand to Anna’s back and leading her quickly toward a darkened corner of the supply room. Dean was breathing heavy, slow and even, as he looked from CJ, to the door, then Ruby, and back to CJ.

When Sam got back, he had started pulling out a flash of holy water. But Ruby was having absolutely none of it. “No Sam. You’ve gotta pull this guy right away..”

“Woah, hold on a second,” Dean protested, flashing the woman a dark look before Ruby had cut him off. “Now’s not the time to bellyache about Sam going Dark side. He does his thing, let him exorcise  _ that  _ demon or we die.” Dean looked toward Sam, Ruby doing the same, leaving the younger Winchester to look between the two with a clearly annoyed and uncomfortable expression. Two on one sucked, but CJ not even inputting made it worse.

After a few seconds, he huffed, breathing heavy as he shoved the flash back into his pocket, and glanced toward CJ. She was still one knee to the ground, water gun up and level with the door as she waited in bated silence.

He hoped she wouldn't even have to use it.

Footsteps were level and loud as they closed in on the door, having been shut when Ruby slammed it. CJ adjusted her grip on the gun, but otherwise didn’t move. At her side, the sword, held tightly to her side with a makeshift hook-sheath, dragged along the ground with a soft, whispering sound. 

She’d use it, only if she had to.

The door flew open seconds later, and CJ locked onto her target as he trumped up the stairs, having slammed the door open with his power without a care.

She hated this son of a bitch almost more than she hated Naomi.

And that was a fucking impressive milestone.

The man, an older, balding man in his late sixties with a light blue button-up and a dark navy sweater with khakis gave the room a once-over and a smile, his eyes having rested on Sam, who stood front and center, with a soft, malicious sort of glee. His hand dragged along the small, dusty railing that held the door from the room, and he frowned at his hand after he pulled it away, stepping inside with nonchalance and all the time in the world.

He brushed his hands lightly, to rid it of the dust, and Sam’s arm went up in a firm gesture to stop.

CJ could hear the thrashing energies crackling in the air, the pounding in her head intensifying with every second that passed. 

_ Fuck- SAM- _ !

The older man brought a hand to his throat quickly, rubbing at where his trachea would be as his eyes flashed opal white. He gave a soft, mocking cough, and his eyes flashed back to the original vessels. He smiled. The energies stopped thrashing, and CJ could feel a dangerous pounding behind her eyes as she felt her nose leave a warm, wet trail down her lip.

Blood..

“That tickles,” the man’s nasally voice mused in an easy, joking manner. “You don’t have the juice to take me on, Sam-!” he warned, shaking his finger a bit as he took longer, heavier strides forward. He brought his hand out, as if to pull, but a large, sharp blast of water cut from directly beside him, and he whipped his head away with a yell of pain. CJ cocked the gun again, murder in her eyes and blood dripping her nose, lips and chin as she snarled. “Hey asshole, take another headcount. And a note-? Touch them, and I slam  _ your  _ ass into Purgatory.”

She had moved quickly, fixing herself right beside Sam and slamming a water gun to his chest before fixing her stance as the demon straightened out, giving her a look of severe annoyance.

“I have no business with you,” he quipped, lifting his hand toward Sam and her position and flicking his wrist. The only person that went flying was Sam, and Dean was already wound up and ready to move. Alastair eyed her in clear surprise, and Ruby looked upon her with horrified shock, while Sam crashed into the dusty old railing and tumbled down a few stairs.

“My, my, how did you dodge that?” he murmured. 

She hated his voice.

“I’ll repeat myself once more,” CJ spoke cooly, before sending another, larger spray of water at him. He dodged this time, though she had gone with his curve, and still got a portion of him with a hissing blast. “Touch them, and I will send your ass to Purgatory. Trust me, something tells me a Leviathan would find you to be a nice, tasty little snack..”

“What are you?” he spat, wiping a hand down his face as it burned and bearing a snarling smile, “I’m curious now, girlie. You’ve got my attention. Not many people get the privilege.”

“I’m nunya, now fuck off,” CJ spat, turning as she shot one last jet of water and it ran out. Fucking pressure.. Dean strode forward just as Alastair had, the demon knife drawn as he aimed for the man’s pudgy stomach. They locked upper-arms and CJ had a fun moment of flicking holy-water at Ruby, earning a startled hiss, before tossing the empty canister at her, and throwing her the last full one. “Give that to Anna. Get her out of here. The address for our place is in sharpie on the side of the gun. Go now. And hurry. We’ll distract Alastair.”

“I thought you didn’t trust me,” the raven quipped, handling the full water gun as if it were viably acid. 

“I don’t,” CJ quipped, but swallowed, and shook her head, “But as surprising as it sounds, I hate Alastair, more. Now hurry up before I spritz you again.  _ Go-! _ ”

CJ turned back just as she was bombarded with the feeling of freight trains against her face.  _ Fuck. _

“Alastair,” Dean rasped, both fear, and murder in his eyes as he struggled to dodge the punches, and go with the blows to make it hurt less.

_ CJ was going to kill him.. _

“Hey Alastair~!”

Speaking of CJ..

_ Fuck- no- nononononono- _

The demon looked up just in time for an iron crowbar to slam across his face, and he went falling to the side out of balance from his position against the beam. CJ had grabbed a hold of Dean’s shoulder a second later, and was hauling him back with a twitch of her lips almost feral.

“He hurt you again..”

He almost thought he imagined the pained, aching words that left the brunette’s lips, but she had gotten up again a second later, and had started to lift her hands up in a familiar, martial-arts style. 

Her feet moved, a bit less than smooth, due to her equilibrium being shot, as she started to circle the demon, the creature doing the same with less hand movements, though he looked ready to lunge at her like a sumo wrestler.

“Why don’t we start with introductions,” the demon sniffed, wiping a hand along his now iron-burning face before giving her a pleasant smile. “Hi there. The names Alastair-”

“Torture extrordinaire, I know,” the woman quipped. He raised his eyebrows, a little, but not really surprised. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, then. What would your name be?”

“Nunya, fuckwit,” she quipped, rolling her shoulders before faking a right. He mirrored her perfectly, and was unaware of Sam until he had been spun around and the knife plunged into his chest.

He grunted a bit in pain, but steeled himself again, glaring at the taller brunette with playful ire.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, son.”

He lifted his arm, taking a hold of the younger Winchester’s shoulder and tossing him away. A weight hit his back, and he was rolling along the floor a second later, stinging, heavy hitter-blows paired with acid mixing across his skin as he tried to throw off the person actively punching him. Swift and precise, punch after punch, with no signs of stopping. 

“What.. the Hell.. Are you.. Made of-?!”

“Hormones and rage-!” the girl answered quickly, before sending another stinging blow to his face, “As I recall-!” she landed three quick, successive bursts to his neck, and she was rolling to her feet, flexing her fingers in the iron knuckle-dusters with a spit of blood out of her mouth to the floor beside her, “I promised you a ride to Purgatory, didn’t I?”

“CJ-!”

She turned her head as she was grabbed around the waist, and thrown over a burlap-jacket shoulder. Her knees tucked into the person’s chest out of instinct, and she felt her stomach drop from her body as she was carried away from the door.

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-! _

_ Glass shattered around her, and she felt a light, weightless feeling for all of two seconds before they were hitting the ground in a pained heap. _


	53. Chapter 53

CJ dreamed of a happier episode.

It wasn’t often, that she got those sort of dreams, because usually they would taper off into something sadder and death-ridden..

But this one..

She liked this one..

Charlie was in the bunker with the boys, and there was an incredibly nasty witch.

But..

But there was a movie marathon, and they boys got to really recognize their little sister for the first time..

When she awoke, several hours later it seemed, after a bizarre dream about a teenager Dean and a different witch, she cracked her eyes open with a whimper, flinching at the piercing, awful light of the motel room they had crashed in. They must have just bought it.

“Dean..” her voice was strained, more air than sound, but it had caught one of the boy’s attention. Her shoulders, arms and face hurt, and it felt like she were run over a good few times, but she was also hungry, tired, fueled with adrenaline and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think she was on her period.

_ Fucking sick.. _

_ She took on Alastair while she was fucking sick- Gabriel was going to kill her when he found out. _

A phone rang a few seconds later, the hand that had hurried to move the sweat-cloth on her forehead lying it back down as the figure retreated to the bedside table, and pulled out the ringing device. 

“CJ.”

It was Sam, then.

“Do you want me to answer this?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, flinching at the tear in her throat, and biting back the urge to thrash her head back in frustration, “Say you’re my secretary or something.”

Sam hesitated, but flicked the phone open, his voice clearing to cool, professional tones as he held it to his ear. “This is Miss Jordan’s line. I am her assistant, Kyle Brant, can I take a message for you-?”

CJ would have laughed if her brain hadn’t processed, at the exact moment after he had answered, which ringtone had been playing.

“ _ Yes, this is Miss Jordan’s colleague, I was calling about a disruption in communication. I was hoping we’d be able to schedule a meeting for a face-to-face discussion at the earliest possible convenience. _ ”

CJ flinched sharply at the accented voice.

_ Gabriel, noooooo.. _

“I’ll make a note and inform Miss Jordan when she comes back in,” Sam’s voice was nothing but pleasant, and she knew that Sam had been fooled. “Expect a call within the next few days.”

Dismissives were given a moment later, and CJ whimpered at the thought of seeing Gabriel.  _ Badbadbadbadbad- he was never going to let her hear the end of it- _

“CJ- CJ come on,” A hand was at her shoulder, shaking it lightly, and the brunette swat her hand up to grab at his, holding it tightly as she tried to ground herself.

_ You can’t do anything right- YoU caN’t dO aNYthiNG RigHT-!! _

_ Jack, Michelle, an Unborn Baby, and Batya. And now you’re going to end up getting these two killed- _

“CJ, snap out of it-!”

A hand was patting her cheek quickly, not quite hard but not quite soft. She turned her face into the warm palm, gritting her teeth as her legs thrashed.  _ Nononononono-Idon’twantthemtodiepleasedon’tletthemdie- _

“CJ, so help me, if you do not wake up, we will track down some African dream root and go into that head of yours faster than you can say Kansas-!”

Dean… Dean’s voice..

He was alive.. 

He was okay..

A sound cross between a growl and whine left the girl’s lips, and Sam sat back at the abrupt shift from frantic to calm. She was pressed into the bed now, sweat dripping from every pore of her body and a heavy flush to her face.

She really  _ was _ sick..

They had to get back to the abandoned house, soon. He had no doubts that Ruby had finished putting salt up- Using oven mitts, most likely, and keeping Anna entertained would have been easy with the bedroom CJ had set up for her brief use.

Decks of cards and paper to write with would keep her occupied.

“CJ, how are you feeling-?” Dean was sitting on the bed beside her a few seconds later, pulling the cloth from her forehead and using it to wipe the beaded gunk from her skin. “I know you can hear me, you brat.”

“Dun’ call me a brat, asshat,” the female muttered.

Sam sighed in relief, running a hand down his face and flinching at the tug of his stitches. He and his brother were battered and bruised, torn and stitched, while CJ had every, mirroring injury on the ride to the motel. Her wounds had closed, yes, but the blood was still matted in some places and she favored the sides of her body that either brother had shredded less...

“I can’t believe you idiots jumped out of a window,” CJ rasped. “That was stupid..”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam sighed. He sniffed a little, pushing the hair from his face as he watched Dean meticulously clean the blood from CJ’s skin. He almost wanted to say something, but at the same time, he really didn’t..

“What’s our next move?” he asked the air.

CJ grunted at the question, lips pinching together tightly before she managed to pry her eyes open millimeter by painful millimeter.

“Back to the house,” CJ offered after a moment, feeling the hand that had wiped at her neck only moments ago nowhere to be found. She reached her arm back slowly, painfully, stiffly slow, and grabbed the headboard. She started to pull herself up, and two sets of hands were at her shoulders and back, both halting briefly before moving together to help her to sit up against the cheap, glossy wood. “Fuck, that smarts, still..”

“We’ve got painkillers and alcohol, take your pick,” Dean pat her shoulder twice before getting to his feet and walking away. Most likely to shift through his bag for inventory.

“Alcohol,” CJ murmured. Sam reached for the small end table before handing her the tall, green bottle, and she drank straight from the lip of it with only a hand moving to hold back her hair from her shoulder. After a few seconds, she lowered the bottle with a gasp, using her wrist to wipe her mouth before lowering her forehead to her raised forearm. 

“We should get to Ruby and Anna, ASAP,” CJ informed them quickly, using her wrist to wipe at her forehead.

She froze in place then, her body locking up completely as she looked down at her arms.

They were bare.

Blinking slowly, she heard Sam’s sudden, choked cough as he looked up and away, moving to go to his own bag as she looked down at her outfit.

She was in a pair of boy’s boxers, and a large, loose black t-shirt.

“Where are my clothes?” CJ’s voice was oddly detached as she stared at her pale, bare arms. They almost never got to see the sun. 

“They were torn and filled with glass so we put them in a bag in the Impala,” Dean spoke calmly, still shifting through his things and finally pulling out his phone to look for something that probably had no use or didn’t exist. “And if you’re pissed about us changing you, don’t be. You were half-conscious and we only helped a bit.”

“..Thank you..” she murmured. She didn’t dare ask if they saw the tattoos.. By their tones of voice, they either hadn’t, or they had, and had absolutely no idea what it was for.

Either way, close call.

One she didn’t need,  _ again _ .

“We should go,” CJ got up to her feet slowly, she needed to find her boots. Sam reached out to steady her when she swayed. He looked ready to protest, but stopped at her sharp look, and nodded. The message was clear; ‘worry about me when we have the time’.

* * *

“So, Dean.. Did Sam explain why he trusts Ruby so much while I was comatose-?” CJ asked after a few minutes into the walk. They had snuck out of the back window, as CJ had suggested, after stating that they were being watched. Dean had looked back briefly before turning his eyes back to the underbrush in front of them. Sam looked between them quickly, trying to figure out if he was going to be targeted at some point.

“He did,” Dean nodded, more detached than resolute, but he didn’t comment further.

“Good,” CJ muttered. She stepped over a fallen branch, her boots crunching in the dead brush, before fixing her jacket tighter over her blue flannel. She had on three more layers under that, but she was as cold as a fucking glacier.

“You knew?” Sam asked quickly, wincing a bit at a pull of stitches when he walked past a larger tree but brushing it off when she had winced, too. “You heard us talk-?”

“I  _ watched _ it happen,” she corrected slowly, turning her dark, tired hazel eyes to him with an expression that closely resembled insanity and disgust. “ _ Full frontal _ . Not my favorite Episode.”

“Why do you call them Episodes?” Dean asked after the awkward silence of her statement became unbearable. “You’ve called them that, before.” “I get them in forty-five minute bursts between cases,” she sniffed, lifting a hand to rub her eyes before giving a loud, vocal shudder, “Fucking nasty.. The shit I have to submit my poor, virgin eyes to some nights..”

“..Virgin-?”

“It’s an expression, smartass,” CJ quipped, shooting the younger Winchester, who had gone from silently mortified, to curious, to even more curious, a glare that would rival Medusa. “You do  _ not _ ask if a woman is a virgin. You don’t do that.”

“.. _ Are _ you a virgin..?”

“Dean, I don’t give a fuck how pretty you are, just because you ask it instead of Sam doesn’t mean I’m going to answer you.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Smite me, Winchester.”

* * *

It was pitch black when they made it to the cabin, and CJ had looked nearly murderous when she opened the door to find Anna and Ruby sitting in the front room.

“If either of you have touched my laptop, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Her words, bitten off with acid and exhaustion, sent a shiver down the red-head’s spine, but she merely shook her head, and pointed to the sleek machine still sitting exactly were she had left it on the table. “I tried not to touch anything.”

“Keep that mindset and we’ll get along swell,” CJ sighed. She shot a glare at Ruby, then moved to her chosen place on an old, rickety couch. Her sword weighed heavy on her hip, and she brought it to her lap before she collapsed in a pile of her own degrasion.

“Glad you could make it,” Ruby had smiled toward Sam when he had gotten inside, the Winchester sending her a brief, faint smile before it faded with a nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

Seeing the redhead on the threadbare leather couch, Sam walked forward, leveling the girl with his signature, concerned-puppy eyes. “Anna, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she nodded quickly. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and she was sitting like a nervous fourteen year old at a freshman homecoming dance. She had a small, tiny smile on her face as she continued, nodding toward the raven haired woman, “Ruby’s not like other demons. She saved my life.”

“Ha-!”

CJ’s one, brief cackle brought four pairs of eyes, but nothing was said, and Dean could only roll his own, mint colored orbs at Anna’s comment. “Yeah, I hear she does that.” He hesitated, then turned a bit, leveling the demon, who had given him a cautious, suspicious look, a strained, but honest nod. “Y’know.. Guess I owe you, for.. Sam..”

Ruby raised an eyebrow slowly, stunned beyond measure at what was coming out of the prideful man’s mouth.

“And I just wanted to..” Dean cleared his throat, before meeting her eyes again. “Y’know?”

“...Don’t strain yourself.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” CJ snapped.

Ruby flicked her eyes to the female, but she was already going through her laptop, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Fucking Hell.. If I don’t at least email him, he’s going to be pissed..”

“The guy that called?” Sam wondered aloud, the look CJ shot him effectively shutting him up before she returned to her work.

“Hey Sam,” Anna asked after a moment of silence. She looked eager for things to be less tense again. She didn’t really see why CJ was so hostile to her and Ruby, though she looked almost docile when she was talking to Dean, or Sam, if he didn’t seem to tick her off.

Sam looked down at her quickly, and she flashed him a pleading expression, eyebrows furrowed in concern, “You think it’d be safe to make a quick call-? Just to tell my parents I’m okay-? They must be, completely freaked..”

“Uhm..” Sam murmured. The three standing figures shot looks between themselves, but CJ had snapped her laptop closed at the sudden turn in conversation.

“Oh right, I get to be the mean one,” CJ piped up, the lightning hitting her as she perked herself up from her slump, looking damn near serene as she got the attention from both the boys, who were staring at her sharply, warning her with their eyes, Ruby, who looked surprised, and Anna, who looked confused. “Alright honey, good news or bad news first-?”

“What-?” Sam murmured.

“Uhm.. Good news..?” Anna tried slowly. She looked a bit uncomfortable with the near sweet smile CJ was giving her. Dean looked stiff at the expression, and Sam looked like he were bracing himself for a bomb.

“Wonderful choice,” CJ grinned. “Those weren’t your parents.”

“W.. What..?” Anna murmured. Her eyebrows drew together, and she looked downright confused. Dean looked surprised, and Sam equally shocked. What did she mean by that.

“That’s.. What do you mean-?” Anna demanded, her voice was gaining volume, but she still looked spooked, “What do you mean ‘They weren’t my parents.”

“Well I used past tense because they’re dead, and said ‘ _ your _ ’ because they did not make you.”

“Woah-woah, way to drop a bomb, CJ,” Dean shot her a look of severe irritation. “What the Hell is the matter with you lately, huh-? What exactly, is your problem with Anna-?!”

“I hate her,” CJ didn’t even looked concerned as she said it, and the thin, veiled tone of deep, simmering  _ loathing _ on her tongue was enough to send ice up the Winchester’s spines. “I absolutely hate her. So yes, every chance to upset her from here on out, I will relish. Because honestly-? I don’t care about her. I don’t care about Ruby. I don’t care about Alastair- Actually- I care a little. But only because I want to be the one to kill him. The reason I hate Alastair- and a lot of other currently unnamed people- it’s because they hurt  _ you _ . They hurt  _ Sam _ . They’ll hurt  _ Bobby _ . So that, in my book, puts them on a shit-list high enough in my priority to enjoy their pain. So yes, I hate Anna. Suck it up, and deal with it. And when the day comes for me to say ‘I told you so’, I will be silent. And you can bathe, and drown in the reminder that I was right, you were pushy, and my opinion generally weighs more toward a person’s actual level of honesty and future familial bond to you, than anything else. Hence the reason I will shower Tippens in kisses when he comes. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.”

“Tippens- you mean-”

“Shut up, Sam,” CJ cut him off, rising to her feet and putting the sword back on her hip, before moving to go to a different room. “I need a drink..”


	54. Chapter 54

Anna stared silently at the door CJ had exit through, her pulse thudding loudly in her ears and her face pale as she tried to process this. She didn’t completely understand why that woman hated her, but Sam seemed to be Hell-bent on comforting her in the aftermath. She felt the gentle-giant like man wrap an arm behind her shoulder and gently pat her back. He was asking if she was alright.

Dean was simply staring at the door CJ had gone through blankly. They could hear the tell-tale creak of someone upstairs moving around, but his eyes stayed riveted on the door, glassy, mint orbs hazy in thought.

“She’s not usually like that,” Sam tried to tell her gently. She hardly heard him. “She’s just.. Beat up, right now.. She’s in a lot of pain, and I think she has a bit of a fever..”

“Why is this happening to me..?” She whispered softly. She sounded broken. “Why is this all happening to  _ me-? _ ”

“I don’t know..” Sam murmured. He rubbed her shoulder gently.

Anna felt a flicker, and her eyes went wide, her body going rigid as she started to gasp for breath. “Th-They’re coming..”

The lights flickered around them, and the walking above them stopped, before thudding was heard near the stairs. CJ burst into the room with her sword drawn, but she didn’t look concerned. Merely thoughtful and prioritized.

“Back room-!” Dean demanded, Sam hurrying to help Anna to her feet and get her into the room CJ had picked for sleeping. There was a bed, a vanity, and a sleeping bag lied out across the old sheets.

Ruby hurried to double check the locks and salt, while Dean reached for the shotguns from their duffel bag and was quick to toss one to Sam when he returned from shutting the redhead into the room.

Ruby had hurried to the bag for a weapon, the item missing raising red flags in her head. “Where’s the knife-?”

“Currently-?” CJ asked, a twang in her tone as she lifted the hilt of her sword, and peered down one of the flat sides of it, inspecting the shape with a cool gaze. 

“Uhh..” Dean murmured, “About that..”

“You’re kidding..” Ruby sounded disbelieving. How could the day get any worse-?

“Hey don’t look at me,” Dean shrugged his shoulders, Sam’s offended expression making him smile when Ruby shot her look between both him and CJ, only for the shorter brunette to point directly at him with a casual flick of her wrist.

“Thanks a lot, guys..”

“Glad to help,” CJ grinned.

“Great,” Ruby huffed, her hair flying into her face as she tried to pick up what was left of her dignity, “Just-  _ impeccable  _ timing guys,  _ really _ ..”

The house shook, and rattled, the two brothers and demon turning their eyes to the door as the rattling continued, the boys with their weapons raised, and CJ merely setting her sword over her shoulder and yawning. She felt like giving Castiel a hug.. Maybe she would..

The door flew open, and a quick, cold wind carried through, weaving through hair and messing it up ever so slightly before a figure entered the room.

He was dark haired, and fair skinned, with sweet blue eyes, a trench coat, and a skewed tie. 

“Tippens~!”

CJ ran forward a second later, ignoring the second person to walk through the door, the dark skinned, bald, and beady-eyed Uriel, as he glared at her.

She practically threw herself at the wide-eyed angel and managed to get her arms around him before he was trying to pin her to a wall. “Woah- woah-! Easy-! I just wanted a hug-!” Castiel was two steps away from slamming her into wood, but he looked genuinely surprised to find the petite woman in his arms clinging to his trench coat with a pleading smile. “C’mon~ It’s been ages-! Can’t I get a hug-?”

“Why-?” he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing as the room watched on in gobsmacked silence.

“Because I want a hug from you-?” She shrugged, her eyes flicking to the fierce wings behind him before meeting his eyes again. “I’ll avoid the flappers if I can- but I have no ulterior motive.”

“They are not flappers they are-”

“Wings, I  _ know _ ,” CJ groaned, batting her eyelashes before she lunged again, pulling herself tightly to his chest and squeezing tightly. “It’s good to see you, Tippens.”

“My name is not Tippens, it is Castiel,” he droned sullenly, his hands held up awkwardly above her shoulders as his arms remained rigid. He had let go of his threatening pose, but she was practically snuggling into his chest now, looking content. Like a relaxed cat, he silently mused. The Winchesters practically radiated irritation, confusion and unease.

“Tippens is your nickname,” she shrugged again, then pried herself away with a sad sigh, “Oh well, we’ll work on the hug-thing.. You’re going to need humanity lessons..”

“You take a lot of liberties for a hairless chimp,” Uriel nearly spit the words in a disdainful tone. CJ slowly looked up from fixing Castiel’s tie, shooting the bald man an expression that bordered on uncaring and irritated. “Smite me, Uriel.”

“Tempting,” his mouth twitched, and he started to step forward, but the slick of metal in the air was all that sounded before the sword was brandished in the air, toward his hand.

“On second thought,” she murmured, lifting her eyes skyward as if in thought, “I don’t want your filthy hands anywhere near me.”

“CJ, put the sword away,” Dean snapped, stepping forward with relief creeping in his eyes when she almost immediately obeyed. Uriel looked a few seconds away from making a bitch joke, so he quickly continued talking. “Cas, please tell me you’re here to help. We’ve been having demon issues all day.”

“I can see that,” Uriel drawled, his eyes prying away from the sword at CJ’s hip to the raven haired woman whose eyes had instinctively flashed black. Like a peacock shooting up their feathers in warning. Fear. “Won’t you explain why you have that  _ stain _ in the room. Oh, and the demon, too.”

“That was.. Actually pretty funny,” CJ admit after a second, letting a single, brief look of respect flash across her eyes before it flickered out and she walked back over to the boys, looking annoyed. “Right then, I’ll give him that one. But I still hate him.”

Sam couldn’t help the way he had instinctively lifted his hand and ruined her hair. She squealed in surprise, shooting him a look when he choked on a laugh, covering it with a cough.

“We’re here for Anna,” Castiel seemed to break away from his confused daze wrought by CJ’s touching to give the Winchesters a stern look. 

“Here for her, like..” Dean looked confused, and his hand tightened around his gun, “Here for her..?”

“Stop talking,” Uriel quipped.

“Can I  _ please _ throw a shoe at him?”

“No, CJ,” the boys chorused. They shared a brief look, but Ruby could only stare at her as if she had truly lost her mind. And maybe she had..

“Give her to us,” Uriel was downright ignoring her at this point, but CJ was stooping down to unlace her boot. Sam didn’t even look at her as he reached down and hauled her back up to her feet, pinning her to his side as he kept his eyes on the angels. “Dammit- Sam- put me down-!”

“Are you going to help her-?” Sam asked slowly. He didn’t like the look in the eyes of the bald angel. He looked too smug. Uriel turned his eyes to Castiel, the angel there, looking too stiff to be of his own free will, answering with an emotionless, “No.”

Dean met the angel’s eyes, Castiel looking at him directly back as he continued. Neither happy, nor displeased with his own words, simply, existing. “She has to die.”

“Well..” CJ clapped her hands, grinning at the way both angels had shot their eyes to her. “As much as I would absolutely  _ love _ for you to take her, or Alastair- either or- really, I wouldn’t mind- I regret to inform you that you are, currently, out of luck. She’s under our care, currently. So buzz off.”

“You want Anna,” Sam didn’t really seem to understand what the Hell was going through their heads. “Why-?”

“Out of the way,” Uriel made to step forward, but CJ had drawn the sword again, holding out out towards him quickly with a look of dark, calm satisfaction on her face.“Where did you get that ..?” he growled, seeing the familiar design and glaring at her sharply. “I picked it up somewhere,” she shrugged.

“Woah-woah-woah,” Dean cut in quickly, tempted to tell CJ to back off, but seeing the look on her face, and knowing she wouldn’t. “Look, I know she’s wire-tapping your angel chats or whatever, but that’s no reason to gank her..”

“Don’t worry,” Uriel smiled, deep, honest amusement in his eyes as he chuckled, “I’ll kill her gentle..”

“Oh please,” CJ scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Michael has that honor- the only time, really- that I would  _ ever _ appreciate his existence. The rest that follows just pisses me off from Hell to Heaven and back again.”

“Excuse you-?” he raised a near hairless eyebrow, looking downright insulted she had dared breath his brothers name. Dean, however, seemed more inclined to protest to this. “You’re some heartless sons of bitches, you know that-?” Castiel flicked his eyes away, head lowered just a fraction. But it was enough to display his hesitance and unwillingness for the determined task. “As a matter of fact, we are.”

“‘Heart’ is a loose term meant for people with morals, Castiel,” CJ cut in calmly, the angels’, both angels’ eyes turning to her when her tone had gone from death to gentle as she started to explain, “You’re not heartless, really-.. Uriel is heartless, but you aren’t. You love your father’s creations- that gives you a heart. It’s why I like you, actually. Because of how big your heart is. It gets even bigger, if you could believe that, the more days that go by..”

“CJ,” Sam murmured, “I’m.. trying to figure out if you were flirting or serious..”

“Platonically flirting, mostly serious,” CJ shrugged, openly admitting it as she flashed the brunette a slight smile, “Why? You don’t like it when I flirt-?”

“Not really, no,” Dean shook his head. Sam had opened his mouth, but ending up merely nodding along with his brother’s words.

“Jeez,” CJ muttered, rolling her eyes before turning back to Uriel, flexing her grip on the handle of her sword, but remaining otherwise relaxed. 

“Anna is an innocent girl,” Sam had to shake himself back into the present issue, shooting his eyes toward Uriel, though it briefly strayed toward Castiel, then flickered back. 

“She is far from innocent,” the dark haired angel shook his head, his words soft, and damn near persuasive. CJ could only laugh. “Oh honey, you don’t know the half of it. She’s clueless, Tip. She doesn’t know what you do. She’s.. Human..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam demanded. He and Dean shared a quick, concerned look before flicking their eyes back to the duo in front of them.

“It means,” Uriel cut in, then, his voice dark with disgust and annoyance, “She’s worse than this abomination you’ve been screwing. Now give. Us. The girl.”

“Sorry,” Dean spoke after several long, tense seconds of silence. “Get yourselves another one. Try J-date.”

“Who’s going to stop us-?” Uriel scoffed, walking forward. “You three-? Or this demon whore-?” His hand had closed around Ruby’s arm and she was thrown across the room, crashing into a window and shattering it as she fell to the floor in a heap. He walked over to her quickly, grasping her around the throat and hauling her to her feet to force her against the wall. One hand was raised high, but an object, long and black, had shot through the air, smacking into his hand and making him lose focus enough to see the woman now just eight feet away from him, only one boot on her foot, but appearing unmoved by the display.

CJ whistled under her breath, looking briefly happy before it was mollified again. “Oh, I love living this.. It’s so worth the headaches and fevers.”

She brandished her sword when he had turned, and twisted her body into a defensive stance in front of him, eyes narrowed. “Alright, my turn-! You get the first shot, though. I rather like having an excuse to stab you..”

“I’ll enjoy killing you..” he chuckled. Dean hurried to walk up behind her, but CJ was already lunging when he strode forward, reaching out to grab at her, but missing when she ducked. She popped up behind him, her tone bright and cheery. “You missed me-! I’m over here-!”

Uriel looked downright enthralled as he lunged again, and she twisted her body beneath each strike. The boys watched on in tense, light-stepped horror, gritting their teeth and they held themselves back tightly from jumping in.

“Oops-! You almost got me there-!”

“Ooh! I felt a little breeze on that one-!”

“Do you  _ ever _ get out of your office, choir-boy-?”

_ Oh, that pissed him off.. He looked like he was having malicious fun, though.. _

It was up to Sam and Dean to take care of Castiel, but a single touch to both of their foreheads had them passed out on the floor in a second.

It was in that second, the moment the boys hit the floor, that CJ felt the twinge of bodily pain, and her eyes instinctively went to the fallen boys, her face draining of excitement and paling. A hand wrapped around the side of her shirt, and she was twisted around, and picked up by her neck. She was sailing through the air a moment later, and her sword fell away to the side of the room as she coughed. She looked around the floor quickly, before looking up, dodging to the right just as his foot came down where her head had been, breaking through the rotting wood and leaving a hole behind as he quickly extracted himself. 

A bright light flashed then, lighting up the room spectacularly, and CJ had to duck her head into her arms as she flinched away.

It felt.. good..

Like cool water..

Like the Witness spell..

The flashing stopped, and CJ fell to the floor, coughing a bit before she hurried to scramble to her knees and bolt for the boys. It took a few shakes to get Dean up, but Sam seemed to take a bit longer, and harsher shoves.

“What the..” Dean couched, shaking his head as he looked around them.. “Where did they go..?”

“There were flashes of light and they were expelled from the premises,” CJ shrugged, sighing a bit when Sam started to mumble under his breath. Dazed, but fine.

Dean walked over to Ruby, helping her up from the floor before CJ managed to get Sam up and functional. All at once they looked toward the door, and Dean began walking quickly to open it.

CJ watched as he looked inside, his eyes going wide and his voice panicked “Anna-? Anna-!”

Ruby was quick to reach Sam’s other side, and they shared a silent, agreeing look before they each got beneath a shoulder and started to lift him up. CJ felt his large, warm hand gripping into the leather of her coat, pulling her tighter to him as he got his footing, and wavered, stilling only when both girls had reached up to grab his shoulders and brush him off.

“Nice dive, Swan Princess,” CJ could help but be snarky when she saw how messed up his hair was, licking her thumb before she reached up to wipe away the mess on his face, “And you’re covered in dirt. Smooth.”

“I sent them away..” Anna’s voice reached them as they moved quickly to join the duo in the bedroom, coming in to see Dean quickly typing a black bandana around her heavily bleeding arm. “Far away..”

“Not far enough, in Uriel’s case,” CJ sighed, pouting a little as she glanced toward the ceiling, “I hope Cas didn’t hit anything..”

“You gonna tell me how-?” Dean asked quickly, looking at her with honest, clear concern as he glanced up toward the bloody sigil on the vanity mirror. It was still wet and dripping.

“It just popped in my head..” the woman murmured. “I don’t know how I did it.. I just did..”

“We’ve all been there,” CJ sighed. “Don’t stress about it. Let’s just get her to Bobby’s already. You know..  _ Before _ she dies of blood loss..”

“We’ll treat her first,” Dean murmured, looking up expectantly at Ruby before he continued, “There’s a med-kit in the duffel. Get it while we load the car.”

Ruby didn’t even comment about how he was taking charge, merely going to do as she was told when she caught the look the brothers shared before they simultaneously looked at CJ. Said woman was eyeing the vanity with a bit of glazed deja-vu.  _ To see it is one thing.. To feel it is another.. _

_ It felt so nice.. _


	55. Chapter 55

“What do you think?” Dean asked quietly as they paced the main room. Ruby was giving Anna stitches on the bed while CJ worked from her laptop in the corner of the living room. She seemed distracted.

“I think Anna’s getting more interesting by the second,” Sam gave his brother a nod, glancing toward the room as well before looking toward CJ. “We can’t deny that this isn’t a similar situation, though..”

“The angels aren’t  _ actively  _ trying to kill CJ, Sam,” Dean denied swiftly, shooting his brother, who had lifted his hands in brief surrender, a look of annoyance, “We should seriously focus on Anna right now. And what did the angels mean by she’s not innocent-?”

“She is,” CJ’s voice cut in with ease, and the boys jumped, having forgotten, in her silence, that she was tucked into the corner of the couch. They had gotten comfortable enough in her presence to forget she was possibly hearing something she shouldn’t. It didn’t matter, right now, though, because of the current dilemma.

“Well, what did she do-?” Sam asked, when she made no move to continue.

“She broke a big rule in their eyes,” CJ murmured, flicking her fingers along the keys in a rhythmic pattern as she coursed through the layers upon layers of glowing green numbers. “But that’s not why I hate her, if you’re wondering. She’s innocent.”

“What about that blood-spell-?” Sam asked swiftly, “That’s some serious crap..”

“It’s not, actually,” CJ denied, shutting her computer after a few more seconds of typing and lifting her tired, pained eyes to the boys. “It’s simple, and anyone could do it. It’s not black magic- it’s a purity spell. A sort of kick in the ass for any angel presence on site. It works through walls, and floors. And you better memorize it. Because it is the easiest spell you will ever need to know.”

“Something is going on with her,” Dean murmured, shaking his head. He flicked his eyes toward Sam imploringly, “See what you can find out.”

“What are you gonna do-?” The taller male asked, looking a bit put-out.

“Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but sooner or later they’re gonna be back,” Dean chuckled at his own joke, but the stress in his eyes was visible. “We gotta get ourselves safe,  _ now _ .”

Sam watched as his brother went to inform the two other female’s of the plan, breathing shallowly as his voice carried through the thin wood.

“I’m not going to like her, Sam,” CJ’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked down quickly when she managed to give him a level stare. He flicked his eyes from the door, back to her, before biting his lip, and shaking his head. “Why not-? She seems really nice. And she just lost her parents-”

“They weren’t her parents, they didn’t make her,” CJ cut him off calmly, her voice cool and calm as she slipped her laptop into her satchel and moved to stand. “Sam, remember that I don’t hate people without a reason. It’s why I love Castiel so much. Platonically of course, because he becomes family to you, to Dean, and to Bobby. He becomes part of the team. And, remember, I’ve seen you guys grow.. I’ve seen you trust each other, the trials you face, figuratively and literally. Castiel will become family. He is trustworthy until I tell you he is not. Whether you take my word or not is up to you, but I swore to you all not to lie.”

“You trust him- say you love him- platonic or not- with only visions to vouch for it?” Sam gave a soft, scoffing chuckle, “How?”

“Well,” she murmured, tucking a loose peice of hair behind her ear and folding her arms across her chest, “I love you guys, don’t I?”

He lost the words on his tongue, and she sighed, lowering her head before she turned, and walked out the door. “I’ll be in the Impala.”

Sam watched her leave, the sway of her long, deep milk chocolate hair and the curve of her hips the last thing his mind registered before the door cut off his sight.

Dean came back a few minutes later with a stern look, seeming surprised by his faraway expression and lifting a hand to snap in his face.

“Hey.. Hey-!”

Sam looked over to him with a start, and the elder Winchester shook his head. “Dude, stop daydreaming. We’re on a case.”

“She said she loved us..”

Dean cut himself off from any further nagging, and Sam bit his tongue in surprise. He didn’t know why he said it.

“Did she say that, in so many words?” Dean asked after a minute of perpetual silence. “Or did she just imply it-? She teases you, a lot, you know..”

“She said she loved us both.. Loved Cas platonically..”

Dean was quiet, then. “So?”

“So?” Sam repeated, immediately, and frankly unjustified, in his offense. “What do you mean, ‘so’?”

“So what?” Dean shrugged. There was a tenseness around his eyes, and his mouth was pressed tighter, but he appeared uncaring, “Man, what does it matter?”

“It does matter- Dean she-..” Sam had to stop himself from continuing when he heard the sound of Ruby and Anna coming out of the room. Ruby was holding CJ’s rolled-up camping bag in one arm and a pillow in the other. 

“Ready to go-?” the raven raised an eyebrow, seeing the tension between the two and holding up the items in her arms with a bit of a shake, “Figured she would want these. They’re bloody, though.”

“Just put it in the trunk,” Dean sighed, shaking his head as he walked outside.

The others followed after soon enough.

* * *

The drive to Bobby’s took the rest of the night, and by the next morning CJ was woken up from her catnap across Sam’s lap in the front seat to said Winchester shaking her shoulder outside the Singer Salvage yard. She jolted up with a gasp, drool sticking her hair to her dry mouth and her eyes hazy as she pawed at her eyes.. “Ugh.. someone tell Amara to turn off the sun..”

“Who’s Amara?” Sam asked, mindful of his volume as she stretched herself as much as she could. Dean was trapped beneath her legs and he was half-holding her back to keep her from hitting her head on the window, but they had survived the car ride.

“God’s sister,” she sniffed, lifting a hand to wipe her eyes again before she openly grimaced, “Ugh.. I hate thinking about it.. Makes me want to punch God..”

“You want to punch  _ God- _ ?” Anna sounded just plain  _ frightened  _ of the words CJ was spewing. And she wasn’t the first. “How could you  _ say  _ that-?”

“You just had  _ angels _ trying to kill you,” Ruby pointed out.

“I hate you a little less, now,” CJ turned her head to look at Ruby, her sleepy eyes less murderous and more mellow, “Good for you, you earned a point. Keep it up and your negatives may even out in about thirty-seven years..”

“CJ,” Dean quipped, glaring pointedly at the sleek, pale legs lying across his lap and turning his eyes to her when he was sure he had her attention. “Can I please get out of the car?”

“Whoops,” she murmured.

She pulled herself completely into Sam’s lap then, turning against his chest when he hitched his breath and opening the passenger door before hopping out. “I’ll go see if there’s anything to cook for breakfast.. Or lunch, or whatever time it is..”

Sam fisted his hands against the leather seat as he leaned back, sucking in a sharp breath as he waited for Dean to take his eyes off of CJ’s retreating form before getting out himself. “I’ll go look into some lore.”

Ruby followed him in, and Anna followed Ruby, while Dean took another moment to get out of his baby before tucking the keys into his pocket.

_ Just another normal morning for the Winchesters.. _

* * *

Dean banged his fist on the walls while Anna watched from her spot curled up on the leather chair in the panic room.  _ Bobby was frickin’ awesome. _

“Iron walls, drenched in salt. Demons can’t even touch the joint.”

“Which I find racist, by the way,” Ruby sang from the doorway of the room, glaring into the inside with nothing short of disdain. Thankfully for Dean, CJ had come down just seconds earlier with an arm full of plates. “Why don’t you write up your complaint and take it up with HR, because right now we’ve got bigger concerns than your fragile feelings,” the brunette nearly danced the words across her tongue as she stepped into the room, holding up two plates from the three, the first going to Dean, which he eagerly took, once he saw the contents. Lots of bacon, eggs, and pancakes with butter, syrup, and a dollop of whip cream and chocolate sauce. “ _ Thank you _ , CJ..”

“No problem, Cowboy,” the burnette murmured, the tiredness in her eyes visible before she wiped the smile from her face and held the second plate out to the younger woman, much to the entire rooms surprise.

“Thank you,” the redhead murmured, taking the fork in slight surprise as she saw the delicate display. She had whip cream, strawberries, and a pink syrup on her pancakes, a good scoop of eggs and four pieces of bacon.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I made it how I would usually eat,” CJ shrugged, her face uncaring as she moved to exit the room, “Eat it or don’t, if you want something else, tell Emerald to fetch it.  _ Do not  _ leave this room.”

“Okay,” she murmured, nodding slowly when the brunette turned to the demon just before she passed, holding out the last plate. “Here, I baked some french fries for you. There’s ketchup in that ceramic dish there- you want anything to drink, get it yourself. And there’s no salt.”

“Considerate,” she scoffed, but accepted the plate nonetheless, “Do you feed everyone you hate?”

“Generally?” she raised an eyebrow, “No. I’d deliberately poison them. But you and Anna are currently allies, so.. No poison.. For now..”

“The last bit was kind of unnecessary,” the raven scoffed, but eagerly dipped a crisp morsel into the sauce before popping it into her mouth. “What the- what did you put in these-”

“I didn't use salt,” she shrugged, “So I mixed in a burger seasoning. Figured it would taste better since we don’t own a fryer..”

“Holy hell,” the demon muttered.

And CJ smiled. “Thank you. From a demon, that’s half nice.”

She walked away without another word, and Ruby had to give Dean a glare when he was sending her a smug, knowing smile. “What are you looking at?”

“She win you over?” he grinned. He wasn’t necessarily being friendly, but CJ’s cooking was something even Rufus didn’t turn down. “She does that.”

“Bite me,” the raven scoffed, stuffing another two fries in her mouth before taking a stubborn seat on a stack of crates. On a second thought, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a worn, tied together brown bag, “Here.” Dean caught it quickly, and looked down, feeling the item in his palm jingle, and he looked at her in disbelief. “Hex bags?”

“Extra crunchy,” Ruby nodded. “They’ll hide us from angels, demons, all comers.”

“No need,” he tossed the bag back at her, and she fumbled to catch it quickly as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a smaller, black-thread bag with a bright blue clasp. “We’re covered. Speaking of,” he shot a look to Anna, who was contentedly eating her pancakes. She looked up at him, licking away a drop of syrup from her lip as he nodded toward the bag in his one hand, balancing his breakfast with the other, “I’ll ask CJ to whip you up a bag, or find you one. There’s dozens lying around the house so one would probably do the trick. The key is, apparently, finding the color.”

“So, Little Miss America makes hex-bags,” Ruby scoffed, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind, “I thought Sam was just carting around a few extra..”

“Nope,” he huffed, tucking his pocket back in again before going back to hsi food, thankful it was still pleasantly warm. “She makes charm bags. By the way, unless you want to wind up a pile of goo on the floor, don’t touch the blue ones.. Or.. was it the grey ones..” he actually looked confused for a second, before he quickly shook his head, “Whatever, just don’t touch them.”

After a second, he moved toward the desk, pulling out a chair to sit down and eat. “So Anna, what’s playing on angel radio. Anything useful?”

“It’s quiet,” she murmured, after a few seconds of staring at her scrambled eggs. “Dead silence.”

“Good,” Dean nodded, resisting the urge to sigh, “that’s not troubling at all..”

“We’re in trouble, huh?” she asked. “You guys are scared?” Her fork stopped poking at the whip cream, and she gave him a sincerely worried expression. Dean felt his heart twinge. This girl lost her parents, lost her home- had been told she lost her mind.. CJ was  _ sort of _ treating her nicely, now, but it was still a bit aggravating.

“Nah,” he shook his head, giving her a warm, relaxing smile. “We’ve got a few aces left up our sleeves.”

“Hey, Dean-!” Sam’s voice carried from upstairs, and the elder Winchester grunted as he rolled his eyes. He  _ just _ sat down.. Getting up, he grabbed his plate, and moved toward the door, pausing to give the young woman a stern, but gentle look. “Stay here, all right?” He tapped her knee as he headed out.

“Keep an eye on her,” he ordered Ruby under his breath.

Tromping up the stairs about two seconds later, he came face-to-face with CJ, wearing a new outfit and carrying two, tall glasses of what looked like strawberry smoothies.

“You want one?” She held it out a bit, and he shook his head with a no-thank you, moving to follow his brothers voice as she squeezed past him and moved to go down the stairs.

“How’s the car?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” Sam nodded, “Where’s Bobby?”

“The Dominican,” Dean said it as if it were some high, classy place, a joking light to his tone as he repeated his earlier phone-call. “He said we break anything, we buy it.”

“He’s working a job?” Sam sounded surprised.

“God, I hope so,” Dean murmured, a shudder wracking his body a moment later at a sudden thought. “Otherwise he’s at Hedonism. In a banana hammock and a trucker cap.”

“Now that’s seared in my brain,” Sam cringed.

“What’d you find on Anna?” Dean raised an eyebrow as they entered the study, CJ coming into the room a few seconds later minus two drinks and looking nearly ready to slam her face into a door. “Hey- CJ. When was the last time you slept? And not that twenty minute cat-nap in the car.”

She halted in her tracks toward the kitchen, completely frozen with her hand reaching for the mess lying out. He knew that pose.

“ _ CJ _ ..” he drawled. His voice was almost growling, and she visibly shuddered before turning to flash both, slightly glaring boys a small smile. “Ahm.. I sort of.. Got to a point of the vision repeats where I don’t want to watch, so..”

“Bed,” Dean quipped.

“But what about the mess-”

“Bed,” Sam cut her off.

“But the kitchen is-”

“Bed-!” both boys chorused, and she shut up with a bow of her head and a slouch of her shoulders. “Please, no..”

“CJ, you need to sleep,” Sam cut in, he looked more concerned than stern, walking forward when she groaned and leaned into the doorway between the kitchen and the study. “You can barely stand, why don't you just go take another nap?”

“I don’t want to..” she murmured. Her teeth grit, and she lifted up her hands to cover her eyes, “Understand that I really,  _ really _ , don’t want to..”

“CJ, we’re not giving you an option here,” Dean walked forward, and she had about three seconds before she was abruptly swung over his shoulder with a loud, surprised squeal. “Up you go-! Sam, go get the door.”

“Dean Winchester-! You put me down right this instant-! Please-!  _ No _ -! No Dean-!  _ I don’t want to be alone-! _ ”

Her shout stopped him dead in his tracks, and he felt her fingers digging into the hem of his shirt, holding tight as her forehead pressed into his back. She was trembling.

“Don’t make me go to sleep.. I.. I don't want to..  _ See _ . I don’t wanna  _ see _ ..”

He slowly set her down, and she was quick to rub at her eyes with her flannel sleeves, “Stop- just-  _ whatever _ , I’ll go to bed- just.. Pull the turkey out of the freezer at two so I can put it in the oven for dinner..”

“CJ-”

“ _ No _ Sam, I  _ don’t  _ want to talk about it.” She walked past both of them without another word, her footsteps louder on the stairs as she practically raced up them to get away. Sam winced when he heard her door slam shut, and Dean jerked a bit at the sound of what could have been an entire desk getting flipped over.

Knowing her, it probably was.

“Well,  _ that  _ could have gone better,” the taller of the two murmured.

“What were we supposed to do-?” Dean scoffed, giving him a look of how absolutely lost he was. “She’s not sleeping, then we try to get her to sleep, right? Just like, if she were to stop eating, we would try to get her to eat?”

“That’s a bit different, but yeah, same concept,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as his eyes flicked to the ceiling. After so long, they knew where her room was in the floorplan, and generally wherever she stood by the lightest creak of her steps on the floors. “I don’t think there’s a pamphlet about how to deal with an ‘Emotionally unstable prophet’.”

“She’s not emotionally unstable,” Dean defended her immediately, but the bitch-face his brother shot him had him getting a few moments of wondering doubt. “She’s fine..”

“Dean,  _ we’re  _ fine.. She’s not..” Sam shook his head, going into the study and sitting down promptly on the couch, his usual spot. “She was playing the knife-game the other day with this blank look on her face.. And I caught her standing in front of the motel mirror a few weeks ago just touching her reflection in the mirror.”

“How is that weird?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

“She looked like she was trying to gouge out her reflection’s eyes, Dean.”

“Okay..” he murmured, lowering his head as he brought his palms up to cover his eyes, “Okay, yeah. She might be.. A little unstable..”

“Dean.. she.. She might need a  _ real  _ doctor.. And meds-” he caught his brothers sharp look, and he quickly backtracked. “Look- I like her- I do. And I know you do, too- don’t even lie, because I see it on your face whenever she does the little stuff for us- at the very least you appreciate her. But that’s just the thing- we can’t let that blind us into thinking she’s fine when she puts on a smile- just now for example, she looked ready to throw herself out a window to get out of going to bed. That’s not  _ normal _ , Dean.”

“What about our  _ life  _ is normal, Sam?” he murmured, running his fingers harshly through his hari before he shook his head. “You know what-? No. We’ll talk about this later.”

Sam opened his mouth, likely to protest, so Dean cut him off. “No.  _ Later _ . Now, what did you find on Anna?”

Sam was quiet for a second, seeing the resolution on his brothers face and taking a slow, deep breath before he sighed. “Okay,  _ fine _ . But we  _ will _ talk about this, later..” Dean didn’t even make a move to show he heard, so he shook his head and pulled out his notebook.

“I didn’t find much,” he admit with a sigh, looking down at the file he had tucked into his notebook with a few flicked pages, “Her parents were Rich and Amy Milton. A church Deacon and a housewife.”

“Riveting,” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, but,” Sam continued, his tone building up as he turned a page, “There is something in the report. Turns out this latest psych episode wasn’t her first.”

“No?” Dean murmured, reasonably intrigued as he cracked open a beer. 

“When she was two and a half, she’d get hysterical anytime her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn’t her real Daddy.”

“Who was?” Dean asked, in a reasonably normal tone, his face serious, “The plumber? Hmm? A little snake in the pipes?”

A bang came from above them, and they both jumped, looking at the ceiling.

It was silent, then, and Dean scoffed, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinching lightly. “Lead a horse to water.. Can’t make it drink..”

“Dude you’re confusing reality with porn again..” Sam sighed after a moment, shaking his head at his brother’s guiltless smile before continuing. “Look, Anna didn’t say. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad- like, wanted to kill her, mad.”

“Kind of heavy for a two-year old,” Dean nodded his head in aquisit.

“Well, she saw a kid’s shrink, got better and grew up normal..” Sam spoke slower, weighing the words in his mouth. Was that what CJ needed..? A shrink..? Or maybe just meds..

“Until now,” Dean sighed, bringing the taller man's thoughts immediately back to the present. “So, what’s she hiding?”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to my face-?”

The woman’s voice had both boys jumping, and they turned quickly to see the dark, burnt red hair of Anna Milton standing in the doorway, Ruby closeby with an uncaring expression on her face.

“Nice job watching her,” Dean quipped, shooting the raven a glare when she shrugged her shoulders, motioning for the girl right in front of her. “I’m watching her.”

“No, you’re right, Anna,” Sam sighed, frowning a bit and giving the irritated woman a soft, apologetic expression. CJ was always weak to that one, though it still took about five jumbo bags of M&Ms to be off her shit list. “Is there anything you want to tell us?”

“About what?” Anna sighed. She looked lost, and out of place.

“The angels said you were guilty of something,” Sam said calmly, the look of panic on her face, the utter surprise and fear made them all understand she hadn’t known, “Now CJ said she knows you are innocent- we trust her on things like this, but why would they say that?”

“You tell me,” she nearly bit the words. She looked on the cusp of crying. “Tell me, why my  _ life  _ has been leveled. Why my parents are  _ dead _ .” Her voice went quiet, and she looked ready to faint, her fingers clenching at her side, “I don’t know.. I swear.. I would give  _ anything _ , to know..”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, “We believe you.. So, let’s find out.”

“How?” Anna murmured.


	56. Chapter 56

“Pamela-!” CJ had thrown herself at the woman the second she had walked into the door, wrapping her in a tight, warm hug as the raven haired psychic nearly stumbled, but laughed, and hugged her back fiercely. “CJ-! What a way to greet me-! I don't get many hugs these days..”

“Why the Hell not-?” CJ sounded downright insulted as she leaned back, her eyebrows hiking up when the woman took off her shades. Her eyes, once dark pools of brown, were now an eery, bleached white, with only a pinprick of the black pupil left behind.

“Holy shit,” CJ murmured, looking her up and down with wide, happy eyes, “Please.. Don’t take it the wrong way but- Lollipops, lady.. I’d lick  _ you _ ..”

Dean cleared his throat from behind Pam, having driven to get her, since she is legally unable to drive- although the ever-filling numbers in her bank account and the private driver hired by a “secret third party” meant getting around was never easier.. 

“Oh honey, go for it if we get the chance,” she cackled, reaching forward and pulling her arm around the girl’s shoulders, “Now, what did you need?”

“You’re not going to like it,” CJ warned immediately, but a smile crawled into her face as she gave her an apologetic look, “But I’ve prepared a six course meal for dinner in apologetic fashion.”

“I’d stay for three. Now where is this Anna girl I’ve heard about?”

“Panic room.”

“Panic room?”

“It’s Bobby.”

“Aah.”

Dean sat backseat to the conversation between the two women as CJ, looking exhausted, still, but on her feet, leading Pamela through the house to the basement.

“Wanna play a prank on Sammy?” Pamela asked, quiet as they got to the top of the stairs. “Think you can play along for me being blind?”

“Oh, my Lollipops,” CJ murmured, practically bursting with glee as she nodded. “I’d be honored.”

“Great, here take my hand, and my arm like this.. Go slow..” She looked toward Dean expectantly, and raised an eyebrow. “You going to ruin the fun?”

“By all means,” he shook his head, taking a deep breath before moving to go down the steps. “We’re here-!”

“Pamela,” Sam’s voice sounded surprised, and his eyes went wide at the way CJ was carefully leading her down the stairs. He winced, it must have been worse than she told Bobby. “Hey..” he was hesitant, seeing the dark shades on her face and raking his eyes quickly to check for anything else. No other injuries, and she was still rocking the low-cut midriff tops, leather jacket and jeans look.

“Sam,” Pamela smiled gently, carefully grasping one of CJ’s hands as they reached the bottom and holding out her other hand, as if looking for him.

“It’s me,” he nodded, smiling as his eyes instinctively searched her again as she stepped forward.

“Sam?” she let go of CJ’s hand, and he reached out his arms to catch her elbows when she walked forward. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Sam, is that you?” she asked curiously. It was almost sad. He didn’t see Dean putting a hand over his face to hide his twisted smile. CJ looked professionally heartbroken for the scene.

“I’m right here,” he assured her, one hand holding her shoulder as his other hovered, in case she stumbled.

Her right hand came up, feeling along his face while he smiled, “Ooh.. know how I can tell..?” Sam glanced up toward Dean, then back to her, as she reached back and swat his behind, smile still in place. He grunted in surprise, and Dean choked on a laugh.

“That perky little ass of yours,” she took off her glasses, then, grinning toward CJ who had let the gleeful smile on her face show, “You could bounce a nickel off that thing.”

“I actually did it once,” CJ nodded her head, Sam’s surprised look briefly overcome by a memory of one of their many motel visits. “Made it trick shot straight into the ashtray on the nightstand.”

“I remember that,” Dean chuckled, still choking on his laughter while Sam recovered from the good-natured prank. 

“I’d know it’s you even if I were blind,” the raven smiled, closing her eyes to prove a point as she let her hands gently gesture out around her. “Same way I know that’s a demon.. And that poor girl’s Anna..” then she lifted her face up toward him, eyes still closed as she smirked, “And that you’ve been eyeing CJ’s rack.”

“Busted- wait what-?” CJ sang, then stopped, a little confused, while she slung an arm around Pamela’s shoulder and sliding in with a soft shuffle of her feet. Sam started to stutter, caught red handed as he looked up and away when Pamela started to giggle. Sam shot CJ a look, cross between annoyed and embarrassed, and CJ gave a stern sort of smile. “Uh-uh, don’t give me that. Like you two haven’t gotten me in the cross-fire of your damn prank fest-?”

Dean winced, hissing a bit at the memory of CJ walking into nearly every trap he’d set out for his brother, and getting caught in every prank Sam set up for him.

“What happened?” Pamela sounded mildly concerned.

“I had green hair and I smelled like Bear musk, booze, and itching powder.”

Pamela winced, then glared at Dean. “Really?”

“It was for Sam,” he defended himself, then added, “And I didn’t do the bear-musk. Or the booze.”

“..Guilty,” Sam admit after a few seconds.

“Let’s just get this over with,” CJ grumbled, shuddering as she rubbed the back of her head. She was paranoid enough to wonder if there was still any splotches of grass green crap in her hair.

“Hey Anna,” Pamela greeted the red-head as she walked over, reaching out her hands for a moment before the fuzziness cleared and she got a good look at the young woman she squeezed hands with. “How ya doing? I’m Pamela.”

“Hi,” Anna smiled, nodding a bit as they squeezed hands then lowered them.

“Dean’s told me what’s been going on. I’m excited to help.”

“Oh,” Anna murmured, her expression thankful as she shook the woman’s hands gently, “That’s nice of you.”

“Oh, well, not really,” Pam smirked. “Any chance I can dick over an angel, I’m taking it.”

“Why?” Anna asked.

Pamela let go over her hands, and reached up, pulling off her shades and revealing the near completely white, bleached and veiny eyes. “They nearly took something precious to me. If CJ hadn’t have been there, I would have completely lost my eyes..”

“Aw, Pam, seriously- don’t.. Don’t thank me..” CJ let out a weak, awkward laugh, but the tension in her shoulders drew enough of the boy’s attention to know she meant it. “I could have done more.”

“Hush you, girlie,” she ordered swiftly, causing the brunette to snap her mouth shut and dip her head in submission, “I’d say you’d done more than just repay me for the trouble. I can barely get Jonathan off my ass most days to buy ‘propper’ groceries.”

“Who’s Jonathan?” Sam asked quietly.

“The driver I hired,” CJ flicked her eyes up, both brothers looking surprised at this when she merely shrugged and looked back at her slipper-covered feet. They were pandas, and Sam just noticed.  _ Cute.. _

“He’s also a live-in maid and chef. Tries to make her eat three meals a day and makes sure she doesn’t deal with rowdy customers.”

“And you  _ hired _ him?” Dean repeated, “Like, he gets paid every two weeks, hired?”

“A-yep,” CJ nodded, lifting a hand to fix her bangs. “Three of my small jobs sets him up for a year. I do about.. Ten jobs a week-? Give or take on urgency..”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered.

“Gesundheit,” CJ sniffed.

Several minutes later, they were all, minus Ruby, stationed inside the panic room while Anna lied on the cot and Pamela sat at her side. “Nice and relaxed.. Now I’m going to count down from five to zero.. When we’re at zero, you’ll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay..?”

CJ sat down calmly in the leather seat between Sam and Dean. Her feet were kicked out, and she had a book opened in front of her, ready for the inevitable wait. She didn’t really want to be there, but she’d be damned if she got Pam hurt by leaving.

“5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.”

The book hit the floor with a thud, and CJ’s head lolled to the side. Sam was the first to notice.

“Deep sleep-”

“Pamela-!”

She looked over quickly at the call, her eyes going wide at the girl sprawled on the leather chair, just about ready to fall off. Dean was beside her in an instant, His arms sliding under her knees and behind her back as he hoisted her off of the chair and up in his arms. She lied limp as a rag-doll, unresponsive and out cold. “Was this supposed to happen?”

“She fell into it?” Pamela looked honestly surprised, and she paused as she took a long, closer look at the pull between the two. “Has anything been.. Different, between you three..?”

“Different how?” Dean asked hesitantly. They didn’t really want to mention the pull in front of Ruby. That was something even  _ Sam _ hadn’t done..

“..We’ll talk about that later, then..”

She walked up to CJ and reached out a hand, pressing it over her eyes carefully as she breathed in and out. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she clicked her tongue, pulling her hand back with a frustrated sigh. “I still can’t get a read on her. For all intents and purposes, I can  _ feel _ her honesty and compassion when it’s directed at me, but otherwise.. It’s like touching a glass wall at an aquarium..”

“Can you wake her up?” Sam asked quickly. He was hovering over his brother’s shoulder at this point, using a hand to pull her arm from it’s dead hang to rest comfortably on her stomach. Pamela watched the actions with knowing eyes, but kept her mouth shut until she shook her head. “Well, I can try. But we should probably figure out the deal with Anna, first. Going in and out of hypnosis is very trying on the mind. She probably wouldn’t be able to accurately do it again.”

Dean looked down at the silent body in his arms, the unusual, peaceful expression on her face as she took soft, silent breaths. “Well.. at least she’s sleeping, for once..”

* * *

_ Why was she seeing this..? _

It was dark, and freezing, and her body was terribly, terribly cold..

She could hardly breath, and what she did, came out in small, thick clouds of steam. 

“Well, this is new..”

She turned quickly in her place, her back pressing up against the wall of the room and her eyes going wide. In front of her, looking freshly trimmed and completely at ease. Stood Mark Pellegrino. He tilted his head, looking down at the body he had formed in with a sly smile playing on his lips. “So this is how you see me..? Gotta say.. I kind of like it..”

“How and why.. Am I in your cage..?”

Her words were slow, and deliberate, her eyes staying locked on the powder blue ones of the rather attractive male. Heaven forbid she dare glance at the bright, luminescent  _ things _ pouring out of his back like living, feathery lava. Orange, red and gold.

_ Just like her tattoo.. _

“All good questions,” he nodded, folding his arm across his chest as he tilted his head to the side. “Unfortunately for you,  _ I don’t know. _ ”

“Oh,” she murmured, taking a slow, deep breath before she nodded. “Okay.. well.  _ Sorry-? _ I guess-? For intruding..”

“Don’t be,” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he walked forward, looking down at the little human woman who was gently lowering herself to the floor. She pressed her back into the wall, keeping her front facing him, and brought her knees to her chest. She looked calm.

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” he asked, almost flippant. “You’re not going accuse me of lying? Scream? Frantically, and all for nought, search for a way to squeeze yourself out of here?”

“Why would I?” she raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to be thrown for a loop when she openly shrugged at him. “It’s not like you’re bad company, and however I wound up here, I’ll likely just be put back sooner or later. I might as well just wait. Besides, you probably haven’t had any face-to-celestial-being interaction in eons, anyway. I can at least  _ try _ to make conversation.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, simply staring at her as he drummed his fingers along his lips. She didn’t look scared anymore, just spooked about what was likely a spell gone wrong. “What the Hell have you been put through to be calm right now-?”

“Oh,” she perked up then, a smile on her lips as she gave him an almost sweet look, he didn’t know what to say to that, snarky or otherwise, “I’m actually a prophet without any archangel security detail. I’m also a time traveler, and a trusted member of the hunting community.”

“You’re a prophet,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Your name-?”

“I’ll tell you if you ask nicely. Not many people know my name. Not even your brothers,” she shrugged, scuffing her shoe on the floor of the cage before giving him a curious look, “Also, can I call you Star-? I know your nickname was Morning Star, but Luci is reserved for another of your brothers to use for you, and Lucifer and Morning Star are mouth fulls.”

“You.. want to give  _ me _ .. A nickname..?”

“Pretty much.”

“Will you .. _ please.. _ tell me your name?”

She smiled, and got to her feet, holding out her hand for a shake with a bright, honest grin.

“Nice to meet you, Lucifer. My name is Crackerjacks Ambrosia Jordan, but you can call me CJ.”


	57. Chapter 57

CJ sat up with a gasp from the cot, everyone in the room had their eyes on her as she spluttered, pulling in air as if she had been under water. Pamela had just roused Anna, but CJ had been stuck under for nearly twenty more minutes. 

“Mother of all things Sweet, that was intense,” the girl rasped, lifting a hand to her throat and clearing it with a cough. “Fuck.. Pam.. warning next time, please..”

“I didn’t think you’d get pulled under,” Pamela shook her head, quickly checking the girl’s pulse and the vision in both of her eyes, “Christ, girl, you gave us a scare. Where were you-?”

“I was in a box,” she finally cracked a smile, “And I was with Mark Pellegrino.. Fucking  _ Hell, Pam.. He was gorgeous.. _ ” she whispered the last bit, though it carried through the silence of the room as she rested her head on Palem’s shoulder. “Put me back, would you-.. I was hoping to stay long enough for second base.. Third if I was lucky..”

“Seriously,” the raven sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she shook her head, “Oh boy,  _ you  _ girl, you and I need to have a chat. But I’m leaving after lunch. I want absolutely no part of this anymore...”

“I’ll feed you before you go,” CJ nodded, struggling for a moment to get to her feet before a pair of hands were at her waist, lifting her up to her feet and keeping her steady. Dean’s hands.

“Thanks Dean,” she smiled, moving to take Pamela’s hand and lead her happily out of the room. 

* * *

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not like the others.”

CJ could hear Anna pacing in the study, but she merely continued to set out the spread along the table. Six course meal, just as promised.

“I don’t find that very reassuring,” Ruby leaned back, her face a clear portrayal of disgust. 

“Point for the demon-!” CJ called out brightly, not looking up from her work.

“CJ,” Sam warned her sternly.

“I knew, I’m not going to pretend like I like her,” CJ shrugged, flashing the boys a flabbergasted look, “Why, did you want me to-? Isn’t that like, borderline lying-?”

“I don’t find that reassuring, either,” Pamela agreed after a few tense seconds.

“So..” Anna tried to get them back on track, fixing her jeans as she made her way over to Dean. He seemed to be taking this the most serious. “Castiel, Uriel.. They were the ones that came for me?”

“You know them?” Sam asked. Anna nodded, smiling a bit awkwardly as she tilted her head a bit. “We were, kind of in the same foxhole..”

“So, what,” Dean tried, “They’re like your bosses or something?”

“Try the other way around,” Anna smiled, though it faded at the echo that had come from behind her. CJ stood there, staring at her with nothing short of glaring warning, slowly stepping around her before turning a warm smile to Pamela. “Lunch is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” the psychic smiled, getting to her feet and patting both of the Winchester’s rears as she passed, earning jumps and grunts of surprise from both. “Dear honey, this looks great. You’re well on your way for a date.”

“I would honestly love that,” CJ grinned, “We could go chill out on a beach somewhere, kicking back to watch surfers and have lifeguards rub sunblock into our backs..”

“You really know how to woo a lady,” the woman chuckled.

“Look at you,” Dean offered after a bit of silence, giving the redhead a faint smile when she shrugged her shoulders. 

“And now they want to kill you,” Sam tried to figure this out, but Anna only nodded, starting to pace again with her hands shoved in her back pockets. “Orders are orders. I’m sure I have a death sentence on my head.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“I disobeyed,” Anna offered after a few seconds, looking a bit embarrassed, but with no shame in her eyes. “Which, for us, is about the worst thing you could do.. I fell.”

“Meaning,” Dean prodded.

“Like a comet,” CJ called, stepping into the room with two plates of food, holding them out the boys respectively before sending an uneasy frown toward the red-headed woman, “She has no grace, so right now, for all intents and purposes, she is human. And she fell like a comet, right to earth.”

“Wait a minute, I don’t understand,” Sam cut in, shaking his head as he set his food down from his lap to the desk, “So angels can just.. Become human…?”

“If an angel’s grace is torn from the body of the vessel they are currently possessing,” CJ explained slowly, drawing the eyes of the room as she folded her arms across her chest, “Then the angel loses their wings, in a sense. As well as any access they would have to powers of healing or time travel. Things like that.. Ripping out your grace is a  _ big _ deal.. Grace is like.. The opposite of a nuclear bomb. Where bombs bring death- grace brings life. Angels are, without grace, merely humans, with no physical form. That’s why, when an angel falls, they either inhabit the first body they get ahold of, or in Anna’s case- she was placed inside the womb of a woman who wasn’t fertile. A ‘miracle’ I guess you could say.. If you take an angel’s grace while they’re in possession of a human, they’re stuck in that body. Forever, or at least until they get their grace back.”

“How do you know so much about angels?” Anna demanded slowly, eyeing the woman who looked damn near ready to throw a chair at her.

“I read,” CJ quipped, “Plus, I’m integrating Castiel into our family, so I  _ need _ to know how to take care of him in any situation.”

“Castiel- you want to- what, adopt him-?” Anna looked more surprised than anything, “The  _ soldier _ , Castiel-?”

“Ever heard of a bitch named Naomi-?”

“Naomi,” she repeated, a frown coming to her face as she screwed her eyes shut, “Yes.. faintly, but why-?”

“Never mind.. If you don’t know the whole story, I’m not explaining it. The problem will arise another day. I’m not prepared enough, now, but I will be, then.”

“So, wait, you just  _ forgot _ that you were God’s little Power Ranger?” Dean shook his head, trying to reel the conversation back into the original topic. Anna nodded, tucking her arms tighter to her chest as she continued her pacing. “The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah.”

“I don’t think you all appreciate how completely screwed we all are,” Ruby piped up from the doorway to the kitchen, her face pale and her body coiled as if ready to run at any second. 

“Ruby’s right,” Anna nodded. “Heaven wants me dead.” “And Hell just  _ wants _ her,” Ruby scoffed, “Flesh and blood angel that you can question,  _ torture _ . That bleeds. Sister? You’re the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they’re going to find you.”

“I know,” Anna nodded. “And that’s why I’m gonna get it back.”

“What?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“My grace,” Anna insisted, turning her eyes to the two boys and CJ, who were perched near the desk, Dean looking thoughtful, Sam curious, and CJ flicking idly through a book she had found in a pile. 

“You can do that?” Dean didn’t sound convinced.

“If I can find it,” Anna nodded.

“So what,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head, “You're going to take some divine bong hit and Shazam you’re Roma Dowrey?”

CJ started laughing under her breath, shaking her head as she reached a hand forward to pat his shoulder. She didn’t say a word against it. Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the gesture.

“Well alright. I like this plan. So where’s this grace of yours?”

“Currently?” CJ asked aloud. Eyes turned to her in unison, and she continued humming under her breath. The book was pulled out of her grasp, and she jumped, giving the younger Winchester a sour look when he tilted his head with an expression that read ‘you were saying’.

“I still hate her,” CJ deadpanned.

“Yeah, well, you might want to put that on hold for a while, considering we have both Heaven,  _ and _ Hell on our asses,” Ruby snapped.

“Dock one point,” CJ sighed emphatically, “And you were doing  _ so  _ well for a while there..”

“Is Anna getting her grace a bad thing?” Dean sat up from his crouch, Anna looking at her with wide, confused eyes as she sat between the Winchesters. Completely at ease. “I’m sorry, but could one of you tell me why we have to listen to her..? She’s made it clear she doesn’t, in any way, trust or like me.”

“Oh honey, I downright  _ loathe  _ you,” CJ flashed her a smile, lifting a hand to cover her eyes as she puffed out a sigh, “But no. She does need her grace, I know where it is, but you need to find it, because, unfortunately, time and placement here need to align a certain way.”

“You know where my grace is-?” she shook her head, stepping forward until she was just a few feet in front of the trio. “Why can’t you tell us? Time isn’t really on our side right now.”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with people telling what I  _ have  _ to do,” the words were slow, and measured as they fell off of her tongue, “-just ask the boys. I trust them, but there is no way I’m pushing everything aside to make sure they don’t do shit on their own.. I help, I don’t lead. I’m not-” she cut herself of, and she threw her head back, putting her fingers to her temple with a grunt and pinching her eyes shut tightly. “I’m not leader material.”

It was quiet, and CJ felt a big, warm palm at the small of her back, lowering her hand quickly and turning her head to see Sam giving her a solemn look. One glance over at Dean wrought the same result. Rolling her eyes upward, she hopped from her seat, marching past Anna with a nudge to her shoulder and making her way into the kitchen. “Why don’t you guys focus on the way she fell to earth, huh?”

“Not a leader, huh,” Pam murmured, licking her lips as she finished her third course, “By the way, this is amazing..”

“Thank you,” CJ nodded, giving her a small, warm smile before moving to the fridge. She had an apple pie she could cut up.

She needed a bit of sugar, too..

* * *

Sam found her a few hours later curled up under the table with a couple of sheets pulled over it to hide her. She had a blanket, a fort of pillows, a flashlight and a stack of books. By the soft crunching sound she gave whenever she moved her jaw, he assumed there was also a stash of M&Ms. “Hey, CJ.”

She hummed, acknowledging his presence, but not taking her eyes off of the book in front of her. 

“CJ, I’d like to actually talk to you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The crunching stopped, and he heard a shuffle before the light clicked off, and the curtain pulled back, showing CJ dressed up and ready to go. He was a little surprised, but brushed it off, and took a seat on the floor outside her fort. “CJ, uhmm.. This is..”

“Anna, Alastair, Angels or you?” she sighed. He could see the outline of a book in her lap, but it was too dark to read the title. 

“You, actually.”

“...”

“Are we just going to pretend that nothing happened outside of Lucky Chins? Or that you didn’t say anything last night-”

“Yes, we are,” CJ cut him off, slipping her hand into her hair and sliding the book from her lap back into the bag she had brought into the fort with her. “Sam, what part of ‘I’m going to pretend those last five minutes didn’t happen’ do you not understand?”

“I’m just, confused,” he defended, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose before he looked to the side, “Look, I’m not asking a lot, alright, I just want to know.. What you really see, when you look at me and my brother.”

“I see the boys that I need to fight Heaven, Hell and Great Darkness and  _ God  _ for,” she spoke slowly, no hesitation as she sat up onto her knees, seeing the expression on his face and continuing before he could so much as open his mouth. “I see the boys who went through Hell to get to where they are today, who have to go through Hell again before there’s a better tomorrow. I see the boys who would sacrifice themselves for each other, and for the world. I see the boys who, just by existing, bring safety, and light to a place where, if they hadn’t, would be cold, and dark and grey. I see the boys I’ve came to love, long before I knew they were real, and long before I was ever a thrown back in time. Sam Winchester, I love you, I am not  _ in _ love with you, right now, because honestly, and the  _ only  _ reason I’m saying this, is because the only other person within possible hearing distance is Ruby, but I don’t want to kiss you, and wonder whether or not I’ll taste Demon blood in my mouth when I pull away,” he flinched at her statement, but she bulldozed on, keeping her voice level and her shoulders stiff. “And I don’t want to wonder, every night, if I fall asleep next you, ‘would you care?’ If I were not useful, if I were normal, would you even give me a second look? Dean is the same, but less so, because by choice I avoid it. That’s how you guys deal with issues, right? You ignore it until you kill something to solve the problem? I’m not going to pretend that I’m a special case, that I’m the exception to your family, or the ‘one who can make you a better person’, because that.. That is on  _ you _ . It is on  _ you _ , to recognize what a good choice and a bad choice would be. I trust you, Sam. I may not love you in a romantic sense, but the connection is still there, even if I can spend a bit longer away from you guys without issues, I’m still linked to you two.”

“You are reckless, and act stupid-” he saw her go to open her mouth, so he pushed his hand over it, shutting her up so he could raise his eyebrows. “I’m not done.” She went quiet, but didn’t move, although he kept his hand there as he continued. “You are reckless, and act stupid. You don’t really take care of yourself, and you expect us to ignore the fact that you don’t. Whenever you have a problem, you brush it off, and it builds up in you. I know it does, don’t look at me like that- I can see it on your face every morning. I.. I don’t love you. I like you, a lot more than I probably should. But, I think that comes from the connection, with my own added opinions about it. I can’t help but see the small things you do, then the bigger things that you try to make out like small things. You constantly put yourself in danger, and when you know we’re hurting, you’re the first one there to help us through it. Not just physical pain, either.. I’m not..  _ Using _ you, like you seem to think I am. Understand that.”

“I’ll believe that after you kill Lilith,” CJ droned.

The moment was gone.

Getting to her feet, she hurried to past him, leaving the fort to clean up later as she slung her bag around her hip and plucked her sword from where it leaned up against the wall.

“Hurry up, we have to get somewhere, right?”

Sam could only watch as she disappeared out the door.

“ _ I’ll believe that after you kill Lilith _ ..”

Huh..

* * *

The tree was a bust, CJ relished in her spot curled up against Sam’s side with her legs thrown over Dean’s lap. It was a comfortable position. At least for her. Sam had been “forced” to wrap an arm around her shoulders for room, and Dean had taken to settling his forearm over her calves so they wouldn’t jolt over the bumps in the road.

The abandoned barn that the five of them holed up in was dark, dirty, and smelled of rotting wood and hay, but CJ was working happily from her place in the corner, headphones covering her ears and a lollipop hanging out of her mouth. She was in a chatroom, right now. A  _ Supernatural _ fandom chat room. Her username was  _ MorningStar _ , and she had a litany of followers. She answered questions pertaining to the characters, provided insight on reasons for choices they had made, or explanations as to how the mindsets of the characters worked.

Gabriel had found the books, too. Thanks to her.

She was given candy at will now. The pouch in her bag filled with something new and sweet whenever she opened it up. He’d called her a few times with questions, but she had made it very clear to him he wasn’t to go to the author.

_ God wouldn’t even know how that would fuck the timeline. _

“Well, we still got the crystal bags. I say we head back to the panic room.”

“What, forever?”

“I’m just thinking out loud-!” Dean’s voice cut into her music, and she tilted her head to the side a bit as she pulled them down around her neck.

“Oh, you call that thinking,” Ruby scoffed.

“Hey-!” Sam called, warning both of the arguers in a ‘dad’ voice. “Hey, hey, hey, stop it.”

“Children,” CJ sniffed, making a point to suck on her lollipop extra loud to get a glare from the demon and an eye roll from Dean. Sam merely sighed. 

“Anna’s grace is  _ gone _ , you understand?” Ruby implored them quickly, she looked fidgety and uncomfortable, “She can’t  _ angel up _ , she can’t protect us-! We can’t fight Heaven  _ and _ Hell.  _ One _ side, maybe, but not both-! Not at once-!”

“Says you,” CJ grinned, pressing her treat to the side of her mouth so she could form a semblance of words. “I, for one, am ready to throw down a bit. I see why you guys like fighting monsters so much. The adrenaline rush is awesome.”

“Last time you fought a demon, you would up passed out for four hours,” Sam protested.

“Because of you two,” CJ quipped, seeing his flinch and feeling not the least bit guilty. “I was seconds away from tearing Alastair apart by the seams. I had a hand on my sword and then I was being thrown out a  _ window _ .”

“What is with that sword, anyway, are you trying to play knight or something,” Ruby scoffed.

“It’s a Grigori sword,” CJ spoke slowly.

“Funny,” Ruby scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Why does that matter?”

“Guys-!” Anna called, cutting off the impending argument and bringing all eyes to her. “The angels are talking again..”

“What are they saying?” Sam asked firmly.

“It’s weird,” Anna murmured, her eyes hazy as her head tilted, ever so slightly to the side. Better reception, CJ supposed. “Like a recording..”

“Probably because it is one,” CJ rolled her eyes, “The radio system there is like radio on earth, they have microphones, knobs, dials, and prayers that act like cell service.”

“You’ve.. You’ve seen Heaven?” Ruby demanded.

“Pieces of it,” CJ shrugged, holding up her sword.

“What’s it saying,” Dean prompted her, shooting CJ a look when she rolled onto her back, completely ignoring them.

“It says..” Anna murmured, focussing as she furrowed her eyebrows, “Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..” she stopped, the words catching in her throat, and the room tensed. 

“Or what-?” Dean demanded, gruff and impatient when she turned to give them a slow, pained look. 

“..or we hurl him back into damnation..”

“Ha-!”

CJ’s laugh made them jump, and the woman on the floor could only continue to cackle, “Those lying sons of a cowardly bitch.. They won’t touch a hair on Dean’s head..”

“CJ..” Dean spoke slowly, the tension in his shoulders at Anna’s admission slowly ebbing as he took a closer look at her sprawled form, “Mind telling me why you think that..?”

“Because,” she smiled, sitting up as she brought a knee to her chest, “It’s a long time coming, the Apocalypse prophecy, and they wouldn’t dare throw you back into Hell, just to have to pull you back out again.. They need you. No offense, but they wouldn’t consort with you, otherwise.”

“So, the reason they brought me out..?” he spoke slowly. 

“To fulfill their prophecy,” she shrugged, grinning, “But you won’t, not really. It’s actually kind of hilarious, the aftermath, I mean. The looks on their faces,  _ so _ worth the headaches..”

“What the Hell is she talking about-!” Ruby finally burst, storming up to Sam and motioning toward the girl on the floor with sporadic gestures of her hands, “She talks so weird and she says things and you just- what- go along with it-?!”

“Yeah,” he nodded down at her, and the lack of hesitation on his face had her pausing, “She usually has a good grasp with logic, better than us, actually. So yeah, we tend to trust her opinion.”

“This is.. Insane..” Ruby heaved a breath, running a hand through her hair as she looked from CJ, to the brothers, and then to the angel. “Fine, Miss Know-it-all, what do we do-?”

“Dean’s in charge,” CJ shrugged, picking herself up enough so she could pull her computer on her stomach, stuffing her bag behind her neck and closing her eyes, “Ask him. I don’t do leadership.”

Dean didn’t have any words, so Sam bounced in place, then strode forward. “Anna, do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?”

“To what?” she asked, the concern in her eyes growing as she sat up straighter, “To kill them?”

Sam tilted his head, lips pressed tightly in a way that said, ‘any other ideas?’

“Nothing we could get to,” she shook her head, racking her brain in thought.

“Wrong again,” CJ called, lifting one foot in the air as she used one leg as a computer rest, the other using her toes to point from Sam to Anna, “Do ask Anna, Samuel, what a Grigori is..”

“Grigori..” Anna’s eyes went wide, and she instinctively touched her throat. “Fallen angels.. They keep their grace when they come to earth.. That- That sword-!”

“Is able to kill anything short of God and his sister,” CJ played the words around her mouth calmly, tilting her head as she narrowed her eyes at the screen in front of her. “Christ, these women are savages.. Where do they get off on this- the mental image is scarring enough, but-.. But  _ this many _ .. Jeez-!”

“What are you looking at-?” Dean shook his head, trying to process his spinning, frantic thoughts as he looked toward the brunette on the floor. “Why are you talking like that-?”

“Believe me, you, when I say you don’t want to know,” CJ sniffed, gliding her finger along the mousepad as she wrinkled her nose, “There’s only a handful of decent ones on this site.. I might need to invest in a tablet- this art has no base.. There needs to be a set style- maybe I can incorporate Scooby Doo style into it-.. It would probably make it look a Hell of a lot better.”

She started to murmur in a language all but Anna were ignorant to, and the red head made a grunting noise of surprise as her face flushed, “What are you-..  _ What are you looking at- _ ?!”

“Oh right,” she murmured, glancing up blankly before returning to her screen, “I forgot you understood Enochian. My apologies, I’ll watch my tongue. Usually I can say whatever the Hell I want in front of them, curses or jokes galore.”

“Okay, let’s think about this logically,” Dean insisted, trying,  _ once again _ , to draw the attention back to the current issue. “I say we give a call to Bobby, all right. We’ll get him back from Hedonism.”

“Dean,” Sam protested, cutting him off, “What’s he gonna tell us that we don’t already know-?”

“I don’t know-!” Dean snapped, “But we’ve got to think of something-!”

“Take a breather, Dean,” CJ’s voice cut into the sudden, thick silence, and the elder Winchester looked down to see CJ staring at him with soft, relaxed eyes. “Why don’t you check over what we have in the car. There might be some more lore I forgot to get from the back seat.”

After a few moments of everyone’s silent, tense shuffling, he nodded, moving to grab one of the lamps they had brought in and walking out of the barn without another word.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not forget to ask CJ, the Characters, or CJ's cousins any questions or requests you may have in the comment sections, I'll put a template into the next chapter before the start of the next Episode in case anyone seems to have any trouble.

CJ had taken one look at the rocking car to know she would be turning back around, a hand coming up to cover her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Seeing it happen was one thing.. Being there to witness it was another..

Walking back inside, she took a good, long look at Sam, who had fallen asleep at an old, aged desk. She watched him for a moment, seeing his peaceful expression and going to her bag for her maroon colored blanket. The thick knit was soft, and warm, and she was careful to drape it over the hunter. He startled a bit, having felt her pull the blanket over him, but his eyes fluttered shut again when fingers smoothed through his hair.

“Rest,” CJ murmured, “I’ll wake you if something happens.”

“Will you sleep,” he asked, turning his head to face her and lifting it from his arm, only to sit up a bit when a soft black pillow was placed over his elbow in answer. She lifted her hand again, gently combing through his hair a final time before rising from the desk and walking away.

Ruby stood in a shaded corner, watching as the hunter followed the brunette with his eyes before she disappeared. She folded her arms across her chest, and waited for him to fall back asleep.

She needed to burn her hex bag.

* * *

“I don’t know man, where’s Ruby?”

Sam’s frantic pacing was enough to sour Dean’s mood further, but CJ was blissfully smiling as she hung from a rope attached to the ceiling, swaying with it like a swing and humming softly with her eyes closed.

“Hey,” Dean shrugged, lifting his flask to his lips and taking a swig, “She’s _your_ Hell buddy.”

“CJ,” Sam walked up to her then, as if he were seeing her for the first time that moment, his eyes pleading as she stopped swinging to give him a curious look. “Where is Ruby-? Do you know where she is-?”

“Currently-?” she raised an eyebrow, at his stern, impatient expression, she shrugged, tilting her head back as she closed her eyes. “Some dirty bathroom in an insane asylum, I think.. She’s bringing Alastair and his goons to us..”

“What-?” Dean burst to his feet, but he only got a calm, relaxing look from CJ as she held out her hand. “Easy, Cowboy. I promise you, you’re not going to Hell, and Anna gets out of this with her grace.”

“What about Ruby-!” Sam demanded, fisting his hands at his side over and over as he pressed the brunette to answer him. “Why would Alastair have her- how did he get her in the first place-?!”

“She burned her hex bag on an abandoned road, so Alastair could find her,” CJ quipped, thumbing the hilt of her sword as she started to swing again, “Wanted to trade Anna for the chance to get herself, and you boys, out of here.” “What about you?” Dean demanded. CJ blinked, perking up at his question before she shook her head, “I dunno, I don’t remember if she mentioned my name or not. Either way, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t, considering Alastair has his eyes on me now. To Ruby, I’m just someone you guys picked up off the side of the road like a stray. She doesn’t know about our connection and she doesn’t know about my visions, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t care. Then again, she _is_ trying to stay on Sam’s nice side, so..”

CJ shrugged, unsure, but not really caring. “Doesn’t really matter I guess, you two won’t even need to fight.”

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” Anna entered the room, seeing Dean nursing the flask and trying to dryly joke, though CJ only chuckled, pulling out her own flask and taking a small swig. “It’s two a.m. somewhere.” Dean nodded.

“You okay?” Anna asked him gently.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice gruff, as if there were something in his throat, rubbing it raw, “Of course.”

Wind seemed to push up against the barn all at once, and the doors flew open. Dean burst to his feet as Sam tensed, both men, and Anna looking on as Castiel and Uriel barging into the room.

“I give your dramatic entrance a six-!” CJ called, only half caring as she adjusted herself in her mock-swing, “Your first one was a lot cooler..”

The doors slammed back shut behind them, and she shuddered at the sight of two pairs of giant, radiant wings. They walked forward until they were fifteen feet from the Winchesters, and Castiel’s eyes shown with a familiar sort of reverence as he looked toward the red-headed woman.

“Hello, Anna.. It’s good to see you..” he paused, then looked past them, and up, where CJ was twisting herself into the rope like a monkey. He squinted his eyes, then added, “And hello, CJ.”

“Hiya, Tippens-!” she called, grinning brightly as she waved her less occupied hand.

“How?” Sam demanded after a moment, his eyes flicking from one angel to the next. “How did you find us?”

Eyes slid toward Dean, and he shifted on his feet. “Dean?” Sam’s voice was fervent, and confused.

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before he flicked them to meet Anna’s. She looked stony. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why?” Sam questioned loudly. No one commented on the fact that CJ was only climbing higher, getting closer and closer to the roof as she went. The angel’s eyes were too focussed on the exchange right in front of them.

Anna, seeing the devastation in Dean’s eyes and the pain on his face, turned her eyes to Sam with sudden understanding. “Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me.. Or kill you. I know how their minds work.”

“Ha-!” CJ couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her chest then, and five sets of eyes darted up to see her sitting in the rafters, tossing a book of matches back and forth. “Boys, boys boys.. How many times do I have to tell you, the angels can’t hurt you-! They’re not allowed to-! It literally goes against _everything_ they are fighting to finish, right now.”

“CJ,” Sam warned, seeing the way she was just barley sitting on the rickety post. “Get down from there..”

“I’ll stay up here,” she shrugged, glaring down at the barn to set her eyes on Uriel, “By the way- dick move going into Dean’s dreams. That is a low blow.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, chimp,” Uriel spit, glaring up at her as she continued to play with the matches. “And what, precisely, do you mean to imply that we can’t?”

“Oh honey,” she grinned, her face saccharine sweet as she put one hand on the post for balance, leaning over the open air with the other to give him a bittersweet look. “Your big brother Mikey would smite you before you could try..”

“Don’t you dare to say my brother’s name with such casualty-!”

“Whatcha’ gonna do about it-?” CJ grinned, kicking her feet back and forth playfully, “As far as I can see, I’m the one with the upperhand right now..”

“CJ,” Anna called, her voice soft, but carried, as she looked up toward the beams. The woman paused, the matches held just at the edge of the wood, but paused. “It’s okay.”

CJ looked down at her in silence, her face stoney as she sucked in a slow, deep breath before stuffing the matches into her pockets with a grimace. “Tch.. way to ruin the fun..”

“Thank you,” she called, turning her eyes from CJ, to Dean, the man standing before her looking more regretful than she had ever seen him before. She paused, and leaned forward, sharing a long, silent kiss, before pulling away. “You did the best you could,” she murmured, giving him a soft, reassuring smile when his eyes wavered, “I forgive you..”

Castiel lowered his eyes away from the scene, flicking them to the straw at their feet and pausing. Around them, the straw had been shifted, and it some places it was wet. Breathing in through his nose, as Anna walked forward, his spine tensed and he whipped his eyes up toward CJ, who was staring at him with a dull sort of acceptance. She hadn’t lit the matches.

“Okay,” Anna called, drawing his attention once more as he looked toward her, blue eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to indecision. “No more tricks.. No more running.. I’m ready.”

CJ watched in silence, her eyes flicking toward the back door every few seconds in wait.

“I am sorry,” Castiel offered after a moment, his voice low. His feet shifted, eyes flicking up toward CJ before resting on Anna.

“No,” Anna shook her head, nearly laughing under her breath, “You’re not. Not really. You don’t know the feeling.”

“Anna, watch your fucking mouth,” CJ’s voice carried again, but this time with a level of venom. Anna flicked her eyes up, seeing the anger on CJ’s face, and drawing back her eyes with a slight, aquisit nod.

“Still,” Castiel nodded, trying to salvage what he had started, and had been broken. Was he stalling..? It felt unnecessary, and yet.. “We have a history.. It’s just-”

“Orders are orders,” Anna cut him off, her voice much less biting than it had been in the show. CJ was thankful. “I know. Just make it quick.”

“Don’t you touch a hair on that poor girl’s head,” Alastair’s voice, nasally and condescending, wafted through the room, and CJ shifted, pulling out her matches once more.

The boys spun around sharply, facing the new threat while the angels tensed, and surveyed the newest arrivals. Ruby was hanging limply between two, burly goons behind the older, disgusting man, out of breath, and clearly in pain. Dean’s eyes were wide, as were Sam’s and Anna’s, but they were otherwise silent as they scurried out of the way, watching Uriel walk forward with an annoyed expression.

“How dare you come in this room..” the level of disgust in his voice was nearly radioactive, “You pussing sore..”

“Name calling,” Alastair tilted his head, scoffing and relaxed as he strode forward to meet the angel half-way. “That hurt my feelings. You sanctimonious, fanatical prick.”

“Oooohh~!” CJ called, feeling all eyes on her a second later as she gripped her stomach, “Ooohh~! Alastair, I hate you-! But point for you on creativity-!”

“Are you suicidal-?!” Sam demanded, sounding on the cusp of rage as he barked at her. Alastair had looked at her as if she were a performing puppy.

“To be honest, yeah,” CJ shrugged, looking down at him with an innocent expression when both Dean and Sam had balked at her answer. “You haven’t noticed?”

“CJ..” Dean bellowed, he looked ready to climb up there and drag her ass back down.

“I’ve got front row seats, Dean, I’m gonna play peanut gallery,” she shrugged, then made a shoo-ing motion down at the demon and angel staring at her. “As you were..”

“I’m going after you, next,” Uriel quipped.

“Not so fast,” Alastair smiled, all teeth and smug eyes, “I believe I already laid a claim on that one..”

“Turn around, and walk away, now,” Castiel warned sternly.

“Sure,” Alastair nodded, no longer smiling as he tilted his head, “Just give us the girls. We’ll make sure your little wingless sparrow there gets punished good and proper..”

“You know who we are, and what we will do,” Castiel spoke slowly, his voice low enough to send shivers down CJ’s spine as she watched his wings slowly arch up behind him in a predatory, gradually threatening manner. He walked forward slowly, until he was at Uriel’s side, giving the demons a fierce glare. “I won’t say it again. Leave now.. Or we lay you to waste..”

“Think I’ll take my chances,” Alastair sneered.

The silent standoff lasted five seconds before Uriel jumped into the fray, taking on the larger of the two demon goons and slamming him into a support beam, crushing it almost instantly. Castiel knocked the second goon out of the way before advancing on the demon leader, punching him once, then twice, before slamming his palm over the demon’s forehead.

“Sorry kiddo..” Alastair huffed, the maniac gleam in his eyes reflecting in Castiel’s brief, stunned panic, when the grace had no effect. “Why don’t you go run to daddy-?”

He swung his arms out, knocking Castiel away from him and giving him a single, sharp punch, sending the angel flying out onto his back.

CJ stood up from her perch, and grabbed the rope.

Time for some fun.

Alastair grasped a hand around Castiel’s throat, his voice gruff as he began a rugged, intricate translation.

“Potestas Inferna, Me confirma-”

A creak of wood and a swing of rope was all the warning he received before two, heavy-heeled boots were crashing into his side from the left, sending him flying and into a pile of debris at the end of the room. CJ let go of the rope quickly, wincing at the sharp sting of ropeburn but sighing when it started to heal. She looked down quickly at the man below her, the sword in her hand gleaming dangerously as she tilted her head, then shifted it to rest on her shoulder. Castiel watched her with figuratively bated breath, blue eyes wide as she shifted from facing the demon to facing him.

She took a step back, then kneeled down, holding out her hand and grasping his elbow as she brought him to his feet. Her face was steady, and cool, with the only hint of murder being the flash of her eyes as she glanced toward the place Alastair had landed, and was quickly getting up from.

“I suggest you get out of the barn, now,” she murmured, giving the stoney-faced angel a small, smug smile as she reached into her pocket, pulling out the swatch of matches. “This entire place is laced with Holy Oil.. I don’t think that bodes well for you..”

As soon as Alastair had made his way over, a pipe had shot out, blasting into his head from the side as Dean adjusted his grip. The demon glowered at him, clutching his head briefly with a look of disappointment on his face. Sam stood just behind his brother, wide-eyed and light on his feet as they waited for a lethal blow. “Dean, Dean, Dean.. And here I thought you had so much _promise_..”

Castiel opened his mouth, probably to deny her suggestion, when a crash sounded behind them, and a soft, soothing feeling brushed over her skin. It was cool, and calming.

Grace..

_Gabriel’s felt a Hell of a lot nicer, though.._

“Shut your eyes. Shut your eyes- _Shut your eyes_ -!”

She didn’t.

It felt…

 _Wonderful_..

When the light settled, and the dust cleared, the demons, and Anna were gone. Rising from their place in the dirt, Dean, Sam and Ruby struggled to their feet, and hurried to get to the blast site. Uriel and Castiel were already there now, examining the last place Anna had been standing. Dean bent over, reaching for the ground and retrieving the fallen demon knife with a soft grunt. He was still a bit sore from the window fiasco.

He turned his eyes from Castiel to Uriel, both angels decidedly silent as they worked through the thoughts in their minds. “Well? What are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna.. Unless, of course..” he smiled briefly, in a rueful way, “you’re scared.”

“This isn’t over,” Uriel growled, marching forward, and only stopping when Castiel’s arm reached out to press his chest back, halting him. Dean scoffed, meeting his glare with one of his own. “Oh, it looks over to me, junkless.”

Dean met Castiel’s eyes for all of two seconds before the angels disappeared with a flick of their wings. CJ waited a few moments after their departure to reach toward the floor, picking up a large, navy blue feather and tilting her head as she brought it high above her head, watching the light stream through the stems.

Ruby limped over to the group with a series of soft pants, CJ lowering the feather and eyeing the woman with nothing short of annoyance when Sam’s concern bled through his voice.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

Ruby paused, weighing his words a moment before she shook her head. “Not so much.”

“What took you so long to get here?” Dean raised an eyebrow. CJ had given them a run-down, but he’d like to see what the demon came up with.

“Sorry I’m late with the demon delivery,” the raven quipped, shooting him a look as she gripped her stomach. “I was only being tortured.”

“I gotta hand it to ya’ Sammy,” Dean shrugged, running a hand through his hair as he looked toward his brother, “Bringing them all together, all at once, angels and demons.. It was a damn good plan.

“Yeah, well,” Sam sighed, raising his eyebrows at Ruby when she gave him a condescending look, though it was partially joking, “When you’ve got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass.. It’s best to get out of their way and let them fight..”

“Yeah, now you’re just bragging,” Dean grumbled.

“Ruby,” CJ’s voice was quiet, and level, surprising all three of the others as she held up her bag. It was the first time she’d said her name. “Let me treat your stomach. Even if you are a demon, we don’t need you incapable of moving right..” At their wary, suspicious looks, she glared and grumbled, “Or bleeding in the Impala..”

“Good call,” Dean nodded immediately.

* * *

“So.. I guess Anna is some big-time angel now, huh?” Sam murmured, watching as CJ, kneeling over Ruby’s sprawled form on the floor, stitched her stomach together after arranging her guts back into place. There was also a basin of water to clean her up, and CJ had, begrudgingly, given her a t-shirt to change into after. Ruby had never looked so uncomfortable before than she did with CJ’s attempt at civility.

Dean nodded at his brothers comment, thumbing his flask as he leaned against the side of the barn. No one wanted to be inside it much longer after the fight.

“She must be happy,” Sam continued, seeing the sullen look on his brothers face. “Wherever she is..”

“I doubt it..” the elder Winchester murmured.

“There, dumbass,” CJ finally sighed, throwing the blood-stained rag in her hand to the floor with a flick of her wrist, “Try not to get put under a knife again, yeah? I rather _like_ my t-shirt collection..”

“..Thanks, I guess,” the raven murmured, pulling the dark grey shirt, with a screen-print design on the front over her chest. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it when it was pulled out, but now, looking down at it, she could only scoff. “Seriously?”

“I find it funny,” CJ shrugged, tapping her hand to her thigh before she stood. “I bought five, so be glad I have spares of that at home.”

‘Here, hold my morals. I’ve got some sketchy shit to take care of.’

“Ha-ha,” she murmured.

* * *

“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Dean mused, a beer in hand as he leaned against the side of the Impala’s hood. They had parked on a side-road along the highway for a break several miles after dropping off Ruby, and they all needed a minute to breathe. Sam sat completely on the hood, while CJ was on the ground, with her back pressed against the passenger door. She was holding the beer between two of her hands, staring resolutely down at the long brown neck of the bottle in silence. Sam sipped his beer calmly, both brothers unaware of the war raging in the girl’s eyes.

“Again,” Sam nodded, reaching over with his beer when his brother reached back, both clinking them in a soft comradery before taking a simultaneous sip. The air was still thick with tension, and CJ took it upon herself to set the bottle down. She hadn’t even opened it yet, anyway.

“..I know you heard him.” Dean’s voice was low, and resolute as he gazed upon the dry fields in front of them, dull green eyes laced with severity and grief.

“Who?”

“Alistair,” Dean murmured, nonplussed and more dull than his previous statement had been. “What he said.. About how.. I had promise..”

“I heard him,” Sam nodded.

“You’re not curious?” Dean lifted his tone a little, a semblance of his usual, teasing sibling banter, but it was much too dry for that, much to strained.

“Dean, I’m damn curious,” Sam denied swiftly, but his tone was level, and relaxed. He was.. For lack of a better word, removed. And polite. “But you’re not talking about Hell, and I’m not pushing.”

Dean nodded at his statement, bringing his beer to his lips and taking a deep, bracing chug, before letting it fall back to his waist, is eyes glassy, and distant, as they fell to places far from where he was standing.

“It wasn’t four months, you know.”

Sam, who had lifted his beer up to drink, paused at his admission, and lowered the bottle again, glancing at his back in confusion. “..What..?”

“It was four months up here,” Dean’s voice, gradually gaining a normal speed as he bagan, ticked off slowly, as if he were discussing a baseball game his team had lost. “But down there.. I don’t know. Time’s different.. ..It was more like forty years.”

Sam swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he shook his head, taking in the fact that his brother, his older, playful brother, had spent over half of his life in a dimension of pure agony.

“Oh my God..”

He wasn’t even close to scratching the surface.

“They, uh..” He cleared his throat, taking a breath as he looked for the words, using what he had that could best fit it, without scarring his brother, too. “They sliced.. And carved.. And tore at me, in ways that you.. Until there was nothing left..”

Sam stayed silent, hearing the heartbreaking weight of the words that fell from his brother’s lips like a flood in a dam. CJ kept silent, unmoving, and unwilling to ruin the much needed moment.

“And then suddenly.. I would be whole again.. Like Magic,” there was a ruefulness in his tone, but he’d pushed it away just as quickly. “Just so they could start it all over.. And Alastair.. At the end of every day.. Every one.. He would come over.. And he would make me an offer.. To take me off the rack.. If I put souls on.. If I started the torture. And every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines.. For thirty years I told him.. But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy..”

Something broke, in his heart, already fragile and held together with Duct tape, alcohol and crazy glue, and in his voice, and he was suddenly pouring what had been a soft stream into a blazing, rushing river. Sam had trouble keeping his mouth in check as he listened.

“I couldn’t.. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it.. And I started ripping them apart.. I lost count of how many souls..” CJ felt a wetness drop to her hand, which had settled on her knee, and she looked up to see him crying. It was just one tear, one single, heavy tear, but it was enough to send a shattering crack throughout her chest.

“The.. The things that I did to them..”

“Dean.” Sam murmured, clearing his throat quickly at the hoarseness of his voice, before raising it a bit to be heard clearly. “Dean, look, you held out for thirty years.. That’s longer than anyone would have..”

Dean’s breathing was ragged, and heavy, and as more tears dripped down his face, he brought his hand up to scrub at his eyes, sniffing before he spoke again. His voice was choked.

“How I feel.. This.. _Inside_ me.. I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy..” He murmured. The tears weren’t stopping.. Why couldn’t he get them to stop-?! “I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing..” He bit his lip, then, and shook his head, taking a slow, deep breath as he tried to gather his wits. His eyes darted to the ground, trying to find his shoes, a safe place to keep his eyes, but they landed immediately on a head of messy, brown hair.

His fingers tightened around the bottle, and he felt a piece of what was left of his soul break away. CJ was sitting there in absolute silence. Unmoving in the wake of his confession. She didn’t look at him, or touch him, and.. God help him, he didn’t know if he were relieved, or if that hurt even more..

All of a sudden, in the wake of the silence, she moved, grabbing the unopened bottle of beer at her side and standing up. She walked over to the small cooler, putting it back inside the box before quietly shutting the lid.

She took a slow, deep breath, and the brothers watched as she lifted her face to the sky, the wet, gleaming tracks of tears on her face shining in the sunlight as she sniffed, and lifting a hand to cover her eyes.

“CJ..” Sam murmured.

“Sam, shut up for a minute,” she mumbled, hearing the click of his teeth as he did just that, and she lifted her other hand to completely cover her eyes. She sucked in a loud, deep breath, holding it there for several seconds before she released it, doing this several times before she lowered her hands to her hips, and stood up straight, as if flicking a switch. Turning on her heel, she marched right up to Dean, seeing him straighten under her glare as she got directly toe-to-toe with him, his glassy eyes wide as he looked down at her and his fingers clenching and unclenching in the suspense. Would she slap him-? Punch him-? Did he want her to-? Did he want something else-?

When her hands came up, and cupped his face, he was given a full second to process what she had done before her lips were at his temple, fluttering lightly over the skin there as she pulled him closer. He felt the bottle slip from his hand, and hit to road with a clatter, but her arms were stern, and guiding as she pulled him closer to her shoulder. His forehead found her neck, and she was carding her fingers through his hair, her other hand pressing lightly into the curve of his shoulder. Directly where the hook had been those first, dreadful weeks.

When his hands had fisted into the fabric of her shirt, he pretended he didn’t notice. When his tears had soaked the liner of her jacket, he turned a blind eye. And when his body had shuddered, feeling the soft, bottomless _warmth_ that seemed to come from her body where she held him, keeping him grounded, _keeping him sane_..

_He would never blame his brother again for wanting to hold her close.._


	59. Convention Special Template

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the template for any questions or requests you may have about the story, the characters, or anyone mentioned in passing in the Balance series.

Name of the person asking: (This will be YOU):

 

Name of the character you are asking:

 

Question:

 

(Do this for as many questions and characters as you have)

 

Name of the Character you have a request for:

 

Request:

 

(Do this for as many requests you have)

 

Attire you will be wearing: (ie: glasses, hair style/color, ship name on a t-shirt, etc):

 

Props: (poster with specific words, glowsticks, facepaint, etc):

 

**Available people to ask:**

CJ

Sam

Dean

Bobby

Pamela

Castiel

Gabriel

Garth

Lucifer

Uriel

**CJ's Family**

Reese

Skittles

Chrysanthemum

Wisteria

Aurora

Belle

Jasmine

Be sure to write out every question for every character, I may not add it all, due to a question being asked multiple times, or something being answered before I post the special, but I will do my best to make it great-!

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORT-!

I APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU-!

Ciao~

Pistol


	60. Doll Heads Are Just Plain Creepy

CJ was curled up in the passenger seat of the Impala, feet in the air and hair hanging to the floor as she lied curled up in a maroon, knit-blanket burrito. True to her word, she had sat in the front seat with the boys the entire time after the barn fiasco, going so far as to cling to Sam’s arm to prevent him from putting her in the back seat on her own. So for now, they all sat up front, CJ hardly even noticeable some days, as she usually leaned on Sam’s shoulder to doze. Her only real rest unless she was forced to sleep. Like tonight.

Sam was lying in the back seat, pulled out of his sleep with a flinch when he heard the crinkle of a paper. “Dude,” he murmured, mindful of his volume, but not. When CJ was out, she was out like a light. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he quipped, nonplussed as he continued to run the flashlight over the articles. CJ was faced away from him, anyhow. So it wouldn’t wake her up with a glare.

“Like you’re looking for a job,” Sam huffed, clearly exhausted as he hunkered down deeper into the seat. 

“Yahtzee,” Dean grinned. It was a weak grin, but it was a grin nonetheless.

Sam sighed, loud and put-out, as he moved to sit up, frowning as he twisted his spine, and felt an acrid pop.

Maybe he’d ask CJ for one of her deep tissue massages when they got to the next motel..

“We just finished a job, like, two hours ago,” he huffed, lifting a hand to rub his face when Dean shrugged. “Adrenaline’s still pumping I guess. So, what do you think-?” He was a bit loud, but CJ was still as a stone. “Cedar Rapids, Tulsa or Chi-town?”

“I am.. All for working. I really am,” Sam reassured him quickly, grunting a bit as he fixed his spot so he could sit up with less pain. “But you got us chasing cases none stop for like, a month now. We need sleep.”

“Ah, we can sleep when we’re dead,” Dean scoffed.

“Funny, since you both have already died  _ once _ .”

The brother’s jolted at the low, feminine drawl as a foot twitched, and a pale, slim-fingered hand moved out to poke at Dean’s arm. “Is there a case in Stratton, Nebraska-?”

Dean blinked at her slowly, watching her start the process of squirming in her burrito and unrolling herself enough to sit up with a yawn.

“You should be sleeping,” he hummed.

“In the words of Dean Winchester, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Stop quoting me,” Dean scoffed, pulling the paper he had been seconds away from showing Sam up to display the details of the case she had mentioned. “So, I’m guessing you’ve got a vision of this one?”

“Yeah, and let’s just say I’m glad the bastard who died is already dead, or  _ I _ would have killed him,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes with another, drawn-out yawn. “There’s still two problems we need to take care of.. Probably going to have to be FBI for this one.. Plus, you’re going to need me to talk sense into the homeowners.. Fucking dumbasses get the dog killed, then the uncle. The mom and daughters almost die and the kid ends up kidnapped, so.. Yeah.. we’re taking that case..”

Sam watched as she stretched out her joints, popping them each in turn before reaching for her phone and flicking it on, flinching at the bright light before checking the time and turning it back on. “Damn, it’s early.”

“Okay,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair before shaking it out, “What do we have to work with-?”

“Stratton, Nebraska, farm town,” Dean read off after a moment as she fixed her shirt and wiggled in her place. She still looked sleepy, but forcing her at that point would have the opposite effect. “A man gets hacked to death in a locked room, inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry.”

“Sounds like a ghost,” Sam admit after a minute.

“Yes it does..” Dean murmured, looking over the exact address he would need with a furtive eye. Sam sighed heavily, knowing he was outvoted, and collapsed back into the seat. CJ chuckled softly, bunching up the blanket before throwing it over the back and trying to spread it out over him with limited room. He watched her in silence as she did so, seeing the look of concentration on her face as she pulled it over his feet, and reached it up to as far as his stomach before giving up with a frown. He offered her a small, crooked smile, and she sent a smaller one back before returning to her seat and hunkering down for her phone.

Dean watched her from the corner of his eye, seeing her scroll through her items in a soft sort of daze as he brushed his thumb across his bottom lip.

They had a long night of waiting before Sammy was ready to roll.

* * *

The road up to the house was unpaved, made only of tightly-packed gravel, and dirt. CJ sat compliant in the front seat, cuddled up to Sam as she read over the texts she had received from Gabriel.

He texted about as well as anyone else, she supposed. Minus the emojis and sometimes pictures he would send of scenery, though she avidly enjoyed those..

His most recent one, a snapshot of the outside of a club in Spain, with the caption ‘My Karaoke Buddy Is MIA.’

She’d sent him a smiley face and a wink.

She could flirt.

It was just.. 

Harder..

In person..

“What are you smiling about?” Sam asked quietly. She had been curled up to her phone, texting with this person since he had woken up. It was a bit jarring, seeing her so engrossed in such a non-active task for once. She looked up at him in surprise, having to tilt her head all the way back and peer at him upside down, before she smiled again, bigger this time as she shook her head. “Nothing. My colleague is sending me pretty scenic shots of Spain. I’m just jealous I can’t be there.”

“Jealous enough that he sends you-” he glanced at her phone, and she tried to hide it in the space of her chest as he raised an eyebrow, “Eight hearts and a winky face-? ‘Colleague’, huh?”

“Shut up, Sam,” she muttered, tucking her chin against her chest and jumping when she felt Dean’s hand, that had been placed atop her calf again, tense a little, then relax. “Lollipops, Dean, don’t spook me like that.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, eyes flicking along the road for potential pot holes as he steadied his grip on her ankle, and relaxed again. She sighed, not saying another word, but when he’d started trailing his fingers absentmindedly along the smooth, hairless skin there, she didn’t say a word.

* * *

“You guys have your FBI ID’s on you, right?” CJ asked them sternly. She was dressed in running shoes, a pair of dress pants, a white button-up and a tie. It was too hot for the jacket, so she left it draped over her shoulder.

“Yes mother,” Dean grumbled, tugging at the collar of his jacket as he pulled the EMF walkman out of his duffel, “Let’s just get this over with.” Sam sighed, flicking his eyes over CJ as she hurried along to get to the house. She seemed anxious.

“She seem okay to you, still?” Sam quipped. Dean had his eyes narrowed at the brunette walking away from them, seeing her ponytail bounce with every stride.

_ “Are you suicidal-?!” Sam demanded, sounding on the cusp of rage as he barked at her. Alastair had looked at her as if she were a performing puppy.  _

_ “To be honest, yeah,” CJ shrugged, looking down at him with an innocent expression when both Dean and Sam had balked at her answer. “You haven’t noticed?” _

“We’ll talk to Bobby about it when we get back,” he finally murmured. “We’ll talk to him about what we should do..”

“We need to keep our eyes on her,” Sam spoke quietly as they both hurried to follow after the brunette, “But.. keep it subtle? She’ll know if something’s up- she always does, so.. Try to be subtle about sticking around her..”

“I’ll take her drinking,” Dean sniffed, running a hand down his face as they watched her step inside. She’d picked the lock. “See what she tells me, then. Try to get a grasp of.. Everything..”

“She’s going to be okay, Dean,” Sam offered after a minute, “We’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

“Boy,” Dean scoffed, “Three bedrooms, two baths and one homicide. This place is gonna sell like hot cakes.”

“This place is awesome,” CJ whispered. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, watching as she paced around the house, looking at every nook and cranny, and pressing her ear to every wall. “What are you up to-?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged, giving them an innocent smile when they shot her varying levels of bitchface. “Jeez, just find the kitchen already..”

* * *

Dean ran his hands along the disturbed paint of the pale yellow wall of the kitchen. The groves left the shape of a two by one and a half foot rectangle about chest-height from the wall. “Hey.. check this out..”

Sam closed the cabinets he had been searching. CJ envied how he could easily see along the top shelf, but kept quiet as she trudged over to the elder brother. Dean knocked on the wall five, quick times, revealing a hollow space behind it. 

“Huh,” Sam murmured, reaching a hand over to run across the smooth, painted surface of the cover. “It’s probably a dumbwaiter..” He flicked his eyes to a row of cabinets they haven’t checked, and began walking over, “All these old houses had ‘em..” Both boys remained ignorant of CJ rifling through her boot for her serrated knife.

“Know-it-all,” Dean muttered.

“What-?”

“What-?”

CJ snickered under her breath, flicking her eyes toward Sam’s right, where a line of a closet was a crack open. Her expression softened.

“You said..” Sam started, stopping at his brothers innocent, confused expression.

“What-?” Dean asked.

“..Never mind..” he murmured. Sam turned away again, and Dean smiled as he turned to check another cabinet. However, both boys halted at the sound of tearing, and creaking wood, jumping to grab their guns, but stopping at the sight of CJ going to town on the dumb waiter with a serrated knife.

“CJ, what the hell,” Dean grumbled, shoving the gun back into his waistband before walking back over. She was furiously sawing at the opening of the wall-crevice. “What are you doing-?”

“Something important,” she mumbled, grimacing as she started to saw faster, “Help if you’re weirded out. I could use the muscle..” He had watched her for only a few seconds more before he took the knife from her hand, seeing the concern, and frankly feral expression on her face as she glared at the at painted-over rectangle. “Move.”

She did as he asked quickly, watching as he tore at the paint and lining. It was completely open a minute later, and CJ had to step back abruptly at the smell that came from it. “Holy mother of-  _ gross-! _ ”

“What-?” he gripped her shoulder, sniffing a bit toward the opening as his eyebrows furrowed. “What is it-?”

“It smells so bad..” she murmured, her hands fumbling up to cover her nose, “Oh boy, it’s like rotting animal carcass and BO…”

“I don’t smell anything,” he grimaced, then took her shoulder, leading her out of the room. “Let’s just check upstairs.”

“Wait-!” she grabbed his hand once they were out of the kitchen, and she took deep, cleansing breaths to clear her nose. “There’s something that I should do first..”

“What” Sam murmured, watching as she darted back into the living room, where the fireplace was, and walked directly up to a detailed, vine-designed air vent in the wall about head-height to her. Sam shook his head, “And back to the point, but you haven’t really given us much to work with on this case..”

“There’s two kids in the walls..”

“What-?” Sam barked, only to get a hand slapped over his mouth a second later, when CJ had turned on him, shooting him a look that meant death before pointedly turning her eyes to the closet door, then the vent. “Dude, shut up.”

She turned back toward the vent then, reaching into her side bag and pulling out a box of Strawberry Poptarts.

“What do you mean,” Dean started, then quickly lowered his voice when CJ had shot him a similar look to Sam. “What do you mean there are kids in the walls? Ghosts?”

“Living kids, two,” she murmured, flicking her eyes over to the vent and raising her eyebrows at the boys before setting to work prying it off. “Think of this as a peace offering..” She managed to pry it away after a minute of unscrewing the iron fasteners, letting it waver on the wall before falling into her hand. She carefully placed the box inside the vent, pushing it back about a foot. Enough for her to easily reach later. She put the grate back over the hole, and put in just two screws. One on the upper left and one on the bottom right to keep it loosely in place.

“What are we supposed to do?” Dean demanded in a hushed whisper as they walked through the halls. CJ sighed, lifting a hand to touch the pulsing temple of her forehead before turning her eyes to Sam. “Okay.. I need Sam to check the attic.. Look for a diary, we’ll need it as evidence, and.. Dean,” she turned to him, then, giving him a grim smile as she narrowed her eyes, “You and I will be on civilian duty.. In five minutes..”

“Civilian duty,” he repeated, confused, “Isn’t this place still on the market?”

“You didn’t see the ‘Sold’ Sign hanging in the grass?” she raised an eyebrow. “Remember, Dog, Uncle, kidnapped kid. There are two children, late teens, early twenties  _ possibly _ ,” she flicked her eyes to the vent again, feeling a prick not unlike being watched before gesturing for both boys to follow, “Let’s check upstairs..”

“Wait- just- CJ-!” Sam sighed, shaking his head as both he and his brother scurried after her as she hurried to the staircase. “Slow down-!”

“Attic-!”

“Fine,” he called, rolling his eyes before he moved to do as told, grumbling all the while. Dean flicked his eyes from his brother, then to a window, catching the sight of the sun before moving to follow their female companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to visit Chapter 59 for the Convention Special Template so your questions and requests can be included-!


	61. Chapter 61

“That the family?” Dean asked a few minutes later, CJ had taken one long, lingering look at the doll head in the closet before Dean had snuck up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. The shriek she let out was pterodactyl worthy, and made Sam jump hard enough to make a loud thud come from upstairs.

“Yep,” she sighed, shaking her head, “Let’s go great them, but first go make sure Sam has the diary.”

“Alright,” he nodded, a grimace on his mouth as he eyed the walls briefly, before hurrying to find the attic stairs.

* * *

‘Uncle Ted’ had been an ass to deal with, and by the time the brothers had come down the porch steps to see the comotion, she was toe-to-toe with the shaggy-blonde male while a teenage brunette girl and a young brunette boy hovered near the car. The mother, a quiet-looking blonde woman, was holding a hand to her side, the other clenched tightly into the shirt of her husband, while the husband himself tried to, loudly, verbally demand that his brother-in-law refrain from pissing off every authority he saw.

“I don’t care-!” Ted snapped, briefly tearing his eyes away from the short, slip of a supposed FBI agent to shoot the couple a glare, “I don’t believe her-! For all we know, her badge’s a phony- and she’s staking the place out for a break in-! Why would the FBI need to look in your empty house-?!”

“I have my commanding officer’s card should you need it,” the tone she used was far from loud, but the simmering, dangerous anger there had the boys picking up their pace as they hurried to her side. Seeing the two newest additions, the blonde man seemed to get even angrier. “Oh great, more people to waste our times- This is private property-! Do you have a warrant-?! No-? Then get gone-!”

“I actually  _ do _ have a warrant you mouth-breathing, annoying, pathetic excuse for a role model,” the female cut into him the second the boys had reappeared, and all the anger that had simmered came screeching into an eruption, “And you best watch your tone with my associates before I haul your ass down to the nearest police station for contributing to obstruction of justice-! There are things in that house you have no business of being involved with-! Now you can either take my word for it, leave us be for another day, or you can stay the night, risk your life, the lives of those kids, and your precious dog. It’s your choice. You have ten seconds to pick before I’m taking my men and leaving.”

* * *

“What was it you said about dealing with civilians?” Sam lifted his tone teasingly as the female of the trio sat sulkily in the center of the Impala’s front bench, curled up against Dean now, since she had shot him a look and leaned away. “We bite where we need to nuzzle, or something like that..?”

“Fuck off, Sam,” CJ grumbled, pressing her face directly into Dean’s jacket as she stilled again. She didn’t want to move. Dean was warm.

“I’m just saying,” the brunette shrugged, raising his eyebrows when Dean shot him a bitch face over CJ’s head. “Jeez, tough crowd tonight..”

* * *

The Impala let out a soft, droning grumble as she idled on the vacant dirt farm lane. Dean was gripping the steering wheel tightly, and Sam was peeking over his brother's shoulder to inspect the house, about a fifty yards out, alight with gold in nearly every window.

“Great,” the eldest hunter grumbled, “What do we do now?”

Sam flicked his eyes down at CJ,expecting her to make some sarcastic, witty retort about the seemingly obvious, but she was silent, her eyes closed and her back pressing almost concerningly heavy into his arm.

“CJ,” he called out softly, then, recognizing the pattern of sleep when he saw how her arms were curled around her torso and her legs were crossed at the ankles. “CJ, we’re here. You need to wake up.” His hand found her shoulder, but he stopped. The last time they’d tried to forcibly wake her, she wound up sending a foot into both of their stomachs and get a grip on their hair. He needed to be careful. Dean saw his intentions, and subconsciously scooted back in his seat toward the door.

* * *

_ “You’ve been showing up quite often,” the blonde male murmured, leaning back against the jigsaw-ornate cage with his arms behind his head and one leg thrown over the opposite knee, his foot bobbing rhythmically in the air as he side-eyed the girl who sat tucked in one of the corners, arms would tightly around herself and a barely-noticeable shiver racking her frame. Her first time there had been a psychic’s doing, sending herself, in sleep, apparently strengthened that damned connection. “Any particular reason for that-? _ ”

_ “I’m human, I sleep,” she quipped, learning snark and sass were the only things she could use anymore to carry on a conversation with the brat. She still loved him, though. Like she loved Sam and Dean and Gabriel. “I sometimes come here  _ **_when_ ** _ I sleep. It’s not rocket science.” _

_ She had a strict, ‘be subtle if you look, but do not ever, ever touch’ policy with any and all males that played a role in her dreams. _

_ “Rocket?” he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. Her eyes lit up, and she scoot out of her corner to crawl over to him, plopping herself directly beside him and clapping her hands together in excitement. “Finally-! I can tell you about stuff that  _ **_won’t_ ** _ backfire on me-!” _

* * *

**_“CJ, you need to wake up now.. We’re on a case.. CJ.._ ** **”**

_ “What the fuck,” the brunette muttered, a frown pulling at her lips as her eyes screwed closed, a hand lifting to cradle her forehead while the other still held tightly to Lucifer’s ankle. The brat had decided he’d start his shoe tapping against her knee and it had been driving her nuts. The fact that she even had the balls to touch him so casually made Lucifer beyond amused. “What’s wrong, little angel?” _

_ “Don’t call me little,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes as she glared toward the ceiling. “I have to go. I need to save some human children..” _

_ “When will I see you, next?” he asked casually. There was a terseness in his eyes, but beyond that was a deep, deep well of pale blue.  _

_ “As soon as I can,” she smiled then, reassuringly as she set his ankle to the floor of the cage and reached out her hands, holding up a single pinky. “Here, I’ll even promise.” _

_ “I’ll hold you to that,” he gruffed, his mouth pinching shut tightly as he took hold of her pinky with his own after a second of positioning his hands. “Human customs are beyond strange.” _

_ “Yeah, but the music is awesome most of the time and the food is phenomenal.” _

_ “I’ll have to take you up on that when I get topside.” _

_ “Just a bit longer, Star.” _

_ “Farewell, then.” _

* * *

CJ grumbled as she was woken up, shooting a glare at the younger Winchester. She could feel a different, big arm around her shoulders and side, taking a brief second to compute the situation before relaxing back into Dean’s hold. He was seriously warm.

“I was kicking it back with my celebrity crush, you better have a damned good reason for waking me up, Samuel..”

Sam raised his eyebrows at the absolute done-ness in her voice, before flicking his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

“So what now?” Dean scoffed.

“We could tell them the truth,” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” Dean looked at him quickly, only to get an eye roll from his brother. “No, not really.”

“Wait for the scream,” CJ muttered, rolling her eyes, “The girl gets her hand licked and goes ballistic. I have candy and blankets we need to take inside with us. These kids need help..”

* * *

Dean pounded harshly on the door as they’d run up to the house. CJ had a large bag over her shoulder, with new clothes and blankets, and Sam had a knapsack with food. There were also guns..

For the worst case scenario..

The uncle opened the door, and Dean had pushed himself inside as fast as lightning, Sam following suit while CJ waited her turn, flashing the uncle a silent snarl when he’d made to slam the door in her face.

“We heard screams, what’s going on-?”

“Oh- you three-!” The father had gone from concerned to his daughter to gradually getting livid. “Did you touch my daughter-?!”

“What?” Dean sounded confused, then scoffed, “No.”

“Who are you guys-?!” The father demanded. 

“Sam-!” CJ’s voice was loud, and sharp, the taller brunette just catching the bag thrown at him before CJ was running back out the door. “Fuckfuckfuck-  _ Buster-!!! Here boy-!!” _

_ “ _ CJ-!” Dean snapped, slapping a hand over his eyes to hide his agitation before he swung his attention back to the spooked family. “Look, I would, absolutely  _ love _ to tell you that what is going on right now is normal- but it’s not. Not at all. There are kids in these walls. Two of them, a boy and a girl. They’re older, and strong, and if you piss them off, you won’t like the results.”

“I told you-!” The little boy piped up, relief painting his features as he looked between the two larger men. “Are you here to help her-?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded, moving to dset down the bags and handing one over to his brother, “Here, check the poptarts in the vent, CJ’s getting the dog.”

“I’ll be right back,” he nodded. Shooting the room a sharp look, the father tried to intervene, but began getting louder when they all started to try to talk over him, “Be quiet-!” His kids slowly quieted, and he held up his hands in aquisit, “Both of you.”

He turned back to the two men then, flicking his eyes toward the door to see a short, muscled woman hefting the large white dog over her shoulder as she jogged back into the house. The dog was whining, and pressed tightly to her. “What the Hell are you doing with Buster-?”

“I’m sorry, did you want him to die?” The woman scoffed, relishing in the surprised looks the family had as she flicked her eyes around the room. “Okay, everyone’s here. Get by the fireplace. Stay away from windows, closets, doorways, anything. Alright-? We need to calm them down. Sam, give them the diary. No- read it, actually- I don’t want one of them tearing it up. We need the evidence.”

“Got it,” he nodded, ushering everyone into the next room with a frown, “Alright, come on, come on-!”

“What are you playing at-?!” The father demanded, refusing to budge.

“Your family is in danger, and we need to get you guys out of the house, now,” Dean quipped, shooting him a glare when he looked surprised, “Unfortunately, there’s a ninety percent chance that the tires on all of our cars are slashed, and looted. That means we need to make do.”

The power went out abruptly, and CJ flinched, setting the dog down and pressing back into Sam when it tried to hide between her legs, “Son of a biscuit-! Buster-! Calm down, boy.”

“Buster-!” the little boy called, patting his knees quickly as the family huddled closer together, “Come here boy..”

The dog didn’t hesitate to rush to his family. CJ almost smiled.

“What the Hell-?” Ted grunted, looking around him in annoyance while CJ stepped forward with a low, growling voice. “If you had let me take care of this earlier, none of this would be happening. Any and all mental scars you each receive will be on  _ your _ ass.”

She promptly spun on her heel, and gave Dean a frown. “Did you check the vent?”

He held up the torn, empty poptart box, and she hummed a little as she nodded.

“Okay, that’s one good thing..”

* * *

 

“Ted, you fucking moron, if I have to heard your ass back into that corner one more time I am going to put a bullet in your leg, so help me..”

“CJ,” Sam called, his voice a bit strained as he sent the girl a warning look. They were all huddled in the livingroom, the fire going and the family hovering toward the back, “Cool it a bit-?”

“Alright,” Dean gruffed, reaching out a hand and plunking it over CJ’s eyes, dragging her backwards until she was squashed against his chest, squirming and squealing in surprise, “That’s enough Mary Poppins, why don’t you focus on the case, huh?”

“Release me-!”

“Calm down and I’ll consider it.”

“Sam-! Help me-!”

“I think I’ll sit here,” he chuckled slowly, pressing his lips tightly together as he avoided the playful skirmish between his brother and their tag-along. He was going through the book with the parents, pointing out some key sentences and clues about the children’s existence, and trying to, more gently explain to them, why CJ was so brash about keeping them in line.

“She’s pretty brash for FBI,” the mom murmured.

“She really hates losing lives.. It.. it hits her hard.. She just wants to keep you all alive and safe..” Sam’s admission shut them up, but the soft voice of one of the children cut into the silence a few seconds later.

“When she ran after Buster..” the boy piped up, softer than his usual volume as he sat curled up to his sister in the corner as they both hugged tight to the dog. “Was she.. Saving him..?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, blowing out a soft, calming sigh, before flicking his eyes to CJ. She had stopped fighting Dean, and had flicked her head to the side. The hunter, having seen her abrupt change, let go of her immediately, and drew his gun, the safety on.

The sound of creaking could be heard, and the family visibly tensed as it came from the closet in front of them. The children whimpered, and the wife and husband clutched tightly to one another, while Ted stepped back quickly away from the door as it slowly, creakily opened. 

She was wiry, and thin, with grime-coated skin, tumbleweed hair, and an old, torn gown that looked to have been washed with mud. 

“Mom..” the teenage girl whimpered. Her mother pet her hair quickly, everyone’s eyes locked on the stone-faced girl as she exit the closet with slow, thumping steps.

CJ stood directly in front of the brothers, shooting them a quick look over her shoulder before turning back to the girl in front of her, giving her a slow, soft smile. The girl twitched her fingers, and a blade dangled slowly down into her hand.

“Everyone stay calm..” Sam instructed softly, his eyes locked on the girl as CJ slowly walked forward. “Easy, CJ..”

“Oh hush, Sam,” the brunette scoffed, shaking her head as she pulled a familiar blue box from her bag. She looked up to the girl then, seeing her twitch in speculation as she looked over everyone with wide, feral eyes.

“Sweetheart,” CJ murmured, her tone soothing and soft as she held up the box for the girl to see. “Will you play a game with me?”

“Are you kidding me-? Shoot her-!” Ted barked.

“Shut,” CJ whipped her head around then, shooting the man a look of absolute murder. “Up.”

“Ted,” the woman, Kate, CJ remembered, finally, warned him, in a shaky, weak voice.

“CJ-!”

Dean’s shout was the only warning she received before a piercing, sharp pain sliced into her abdomen, and the strangled, feminine cry of the girl bled into her ears.

CJ’s arms wound out and around the girl instinctively, despite the knife still lodged in her body, and she felt the girl thrashing as both Sam and Dean bolted forward to help her.

“Blankets-!” she snapped. Hot, searing pulses in her body echoed where the knife was still lodged, only pushed further and further as the girl tried to retch it out, only to be held tighter and tighter as the woman pinned her down.

In a matter of seconds, she had been pulled away, and wrapped tightly into a blanket, burrito styled, held closed by Sam as he held her completely still. Dean hurried to CJ’s side, then, taking her hand as she hovered it over the knife, her favorite green flannel soaked in a large, dark stain of blood, growing larger by the second.

“CJ-” he started, a choke on his lips before she’d flipped up a hand and slapped him. He was too surprised by the sudden strike to be angry about it.

“Save it, I’ll live. Now  _ move  _ so I can make her pass out-!”

“You’re bleeding-”

“ _ Xi _ .”


	62. Chapter 62

“Mission accomplished.”

The boys were glaring at her in silence, and she rolled her eyes subtly as she addressed the family in front of her. They were incredibly spooked, but grateful all the same, clutching one another as they huddled closer,still waiting outside. Their tires had, indeed, been slashed, so they had been waiting for the Impala’s replacement before any calls would be made. CJ had called in her agency, and they had someone from the local PD coming to pick the children up until a member of her unit was available to take them in for special treatment.

Both the girl and boy were tucked against each other under a large, thick pair of blankets, one green and one purple. They were dozing, exhausted, while CJ flexed the hand she’d cut into, long since healed.

Dean had been a little annoyed by the spell, but she was quick to assure him that it was simple Chinese energy twisting.

Didn’t mean he and Sam weren’t pissed about her getting stabbed, though..

“Thanks for the head start,” Dean gave them a nod as she shut the trunk, the couple giving them faint, tired smiles.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you guys don’t like the police?”

“I  _ am  _ actually FBI,” CJ held up her badge for them to see, a small, slightly happy smile on her lips when they took a look at it, “I just tag along for the boys’ cleanup.”

“It’s sort of a.. Mutual appreciation thing,” Sam added on with a nod.

“Well, thank you..” the man sighed, holding out his hand and shaking Dean’s firmly, before turning to CJ, then Sam, going down the line. His wife was quick to follow, squeezing Dean’s hands in appreciation before going to CJ and Sam.

“You okay?” Dean asked carefully. The woman inhaled, as if thinking, before shaking her head. “No.. We’re the opposite of okay, but..” she lifted her eyes to her husband, who had been watching her with sad, knowing eyes. “We’re together. Thanks..”

CJ nodded, and the brothers shared a look.

* * *

The boys had swung the car beneath an overpass to eat their dinner, but CJ had been stuck to her candy since they left, assuring them anything larger would make her stomach upset.

They had watched the stab wound close itself by the light of a flashlight after they’d sent the family out to stay in the shed. It had been the first time Dean had seen the process.

“Gross,” was the only comment he’d given, but the smile on her lips was real.

Dean sat atop the hood, Sam standing nearby while CJ lounged next to Dean watching as he unwrapped his sandwich, looked at it and wrapped it back up, letting the package fall back to the hood of the car.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“You know,” he muttered, biting the inner lining of his lip as he looked up at the concrete road above them. “I felt for those sons of bitches back there.. Lifelong torture turns you into something like that..”

“You were in Hell, Dean,” Sam sighed, knowing the argument was coming, and knowing exactly what he would say. “Look, maybe you did what you did there, but you’re not like that.”

“I’ll stop you there, Sam,” CJ cut in, shooting him a look when he opened his mouth, “I know your word choice is poor for this next bit, so I’ll take over.” He opened his mouth again, probably to ask, but shut it, and conceded with a tip of his head. She sighed, sharp and quick, before turning in her seat, and facing Dean. “In the original vision, you kill the brother, after the girl kidnaps Danny, and the husband killed the girl, after she attacked the shed, where the wife and daughter were hiding. Do you want to know  _ why _ I changed that-? Yeah, they’re sick. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They’re just _sick_. They only have each other, so they act like that. You’re not like that, Dean. You have us, Sam, and me. You have Bobby. And Ellen, and Jo. Rufus, Castiel, do I need to go on?”

“Why’d you include the angel?” he scoffed, a tenseness to his eyes, though there was something else lingering there, too, when she looked at him with such a sad, honest expression. “Aren’t they on our shit list?”

“Castiel is.. A soldier.” CJ nodded after a few, long moments, “He needs us to.. Learn compassion, and care, and love. Angels..  _ Are _ capable of that, you know.. Lucifer was the first.”

“Lucifer, seriously?” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, “And that’s a good thing?”

“With the right background.. Yeah,” CJ nodded, giving him a smile that had more than just a palm full of grief. She turned her head from him then, flicking her eyes toward her shoes as she kicked at a rock near her toes. “I.. haven’t told you the story of Lucifer yet, have I?”

“No, you haven’t,” Sam raised an eyebrow, and the girl let out a long, suffering sigh before she shook her head. “Well, I suppose I’ll save it. You’ll need to hear it, for the first time, when it matters the most.”

“And it doesn’t matter now?” Dean tilted his head, scowling a little as he tried to understand her reasoning. “Isn’t Lilith trying to free him?”

“It’ll matter later,” she smiled, lifting a hand to pat his arm before sliding off of the hood, “And just so you know.. There’s a lot more that goes into it than just pride..”

* * *

 

Don't forget to include yourselves into the Convention Special Chapter with the Chapter 59 guidelines. I need a decent amount of submissions to be able to bring it to the correct level of awesomeness the situation deserves.


	63. Hat Tricks

“I used to be obsessed with this crap,” CJ smiled wryly, running her finger along the ridge of the dark blue top hat, a phone pressed up to her ear and a pair of brothers packing their things in the background, “Quite good, too. Until I broke my ankle in senior year.. Couldn’t do much more than card tricks, then..”

“ _ You miss it.. _ ?”

“Kinda,” she shrugged, setting the hat right on top of her head and standing to look at the mirror as she adjusted it, running a hand down the center of her body as she imagined her old uniform, ignoring the boys who had paused to watch her casual, relaxed conversation with the man they still knew nothing about.

“ _ So you’ll be in Iowa? _ ”

“You wanna come?”

“ _ And see a bunch a phonies playing magic, I dunno _ .”

“Oh come on, please,” she whined, her wry smile turning into a grin when she heard a snuffling grunt over the phone, “Is that Sherlock-? Is it-?”

“ _ Yes, it’s Sherlock _ .”

“Oh~!” she chuckled, closing her eyes as she spun in a circle, modeling her hat, “I want to snuggle with him again, I was blackout drunk last time..”

“ _ Maybe I’ll bring him along _ .”

“So you’ll come,” she perked up, then, the hat slipping over her eyes as she grunted, “Crap- hey-!” she fixed the rim, darting her eyes to the right where Sam and Dean were hiding their chuckled beneath their sleeves, pretending they hadn’t noticed. 

“ _ I’ll be there. Maybe we can go bar flying during your case _ .”

“As long as I limit myself, Sweetheart,” she sighed, sounding tired as she shook her head, “Man, last time could have killed me.”

“ _ I’d be surprised. I better go. I got to look my best if we’re meeting up. _ ”

“Don’t be such a girl about it,” she snorted, rolling her eyes, “You’d make ratty sweatpants look sexy.”

“ _ Aww, you mean it _ ~?”

“Don’t get a big head. Bye Sweets.”

“ _ Later, Lollipop _ .”

She hung up.

“So is.. “ _ Sweetheart” _ flying up to Iowa for you?” Dean asked casually, though the way he had said the name spoke of a bitten-back grimace. Sam had a similar, pointedly polite expression. She raised an eyebrow at them, seeing them ready to go, before flicking the lip of her hat, and letting it sit just a bit higher over her eyebrows. “Yep. And no, I’m not going to have him come to whatever room we stay in. Also, I’m paying for the hotel this time. We’re staying somewhere nice. I want bed and breakfast.”

“ _ You’re _ paying for the hotel?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“At least a four star,” CJ sniffed, frowning as she glared at the beds they were leaving behind, “No hooker sheets. No moldy tubs. No popcorn ceilings.”

“Well..” Dean frowned, rolling over the idea before he shrugged, “Alright, fine. Your pick.”

“Spa day, here I come,” CJ chuckled, though it was borderline cackling as they moved to leave the building. She had Cleo back, so she had all the more reason to pack certain equipment.

* * *

“This.. isn’t a trick, okay..?” The man wearing guyliner, too much leather and loin-constricting pants stood directly in front of a crowd of young people on the sidewalk. CJ included as she folded her arms across her chest, eyes vaguely amused as she watched him look like a pale, sunless druggie. Which he probably was.

“I-I-I don’t do tricks.  _ This _ .. is a demonstration. About demons, and angels. Love and Lust.”

“Morons and Douchebags,” CJ muttered under her breath, earning a chuckle from Dean and an elbow to the side from Sam.

“All that stuff mixed up in my head-!”

“Dumbass,” CJ grinned, “He’d piss himself if he ever saw a demon. Same for angels.”

“That’s Jeb Dexter,” Sam nodded, flicking his eyes back toward the act when Dean took a moment to look confused, then turn back as well. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“He’s famous.. Kind of..” Sam offered.

“For what, douchebaggery?” Dean scoffed. 

“No,” CJ sighed, earning the boys’ eyes as she watched him continue talking in gestures, “That would be our victim. This guy’s just a priss and a drama queen.”

“-how messed up it gets, don’t touch me, okay?” Jeb continued, looking concerned for the people around him while CJ merely continued to silently laugh. “For your own safety.”

“Wouldn’t want to catch  _ those _ herpes..”

Dean coughed again, hearing her whisper, while Sam merely slung his arm around her head, covering her eyes as she made a noise of protest. “Sam-no-! I wanna watch him have a hemorrhage-!”

Thank god the people around them were ignoring the suit-clad trio.

All of a sudden, he started to convulse, gasping and shaking and twitching while Sam had CJ crawling out of his hold, using him as a ladder so she could see above the crowd. He easily wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her head-height with him, but her attention was firmly on the performing man on the sidewalk.

“Back to Hell, demon-!”

He shot the cards at the window, and they hit the glass before falling, a single card stuck to the other side revealing the Ace of clovers. He ran his hand along the glass, leaving a squeaky sound, and he looked breathlessly toward the woman in front of him, “Is this your card?”

The crowd burst into applause.

“Like I said,” CJ grumbled, patting Sam’s beefy arm as she glanced toward the ground, a good foot and a half away from her dangling toes, “Wouldn’t want to catch  _ those _ herpes..”

“Shut up,” the brunette grumbled, slowly letting her back onto her feet after rubbing his thumb over her cheek. She had a stray bit of what looked like glitter left over from her room-takeover back at the hotel. He’d never seen so much gag-magic in one place. Nor real magic in a corner. Dean was mad, but she assured him it was for protective purposes, showing him the step-by-step process by which she was going to do it, and explaining the details of what she was using as best she could to the ornery Winchester.

Sam had been caught more than once dinking around with some things.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean scoffed, flicking his eyes toward Sam in annoyance, “A fake demon possession? I can’t believe people actually fall for that crap.”

“It’s not all crap,” Sam defended, following his brother and CJ as they started to walk away.

“What part of that was not a steaming pile of B.S?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,  _ that _ was crap,” Sam admit, shaking his head as he continued, “but that’s not all magicians. It takes skill.”

“Oh  _ right _ ~” Dean nodded, chuckling as he spoke, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to give his brother a teasing smile, though Sam had shot him an immediate, warning look after he’d caught CJ’s interested expression, “I forgot-! You were actually into this stuff, weren’t you?”

Sam straightened up, setting his shoulders back and leveling his brother with a pointed look when he had continued laughing beneath his words. “I mean, you had-- you had a deck of cards, and a wand.”

“Dude I was thirteen, it was a phase,” Sam defended.

“Did he have a cape?” CJ asked quickly, eyes wide as she tugged on Dean’s sleeve, looking for all the world like a curious child, beaming smile and all, “Like, did he run around with it yelling something like ‘The Amazing Samuel’?”

“Close,” he grinned down at her, as if in conspiracy, “He called himself Winchester the Mystic.”

“Oh Lollipops, that’s adorable,” CJ giggled, lifting up her hands to hide her face, “Sam.. so cute..”

“Guys..” Sam grumbled, glaring a little while CJ continued to laugh, and Dean reigned himself in to calm down, and focus back on the case, “Guys, come on..”

“It just.. Bugs me..” Dean admit after a minute, glancing back at the scene they had left before shaking his head, “Actually, it offends me. You know, playing at demons and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody.”

“Doesn’t stop people from playing war with water guns or toys,” CJ pointed out, raising an eyebrow when he frowned down at her, her cheeks were flushed from her giggling, but she had a stern look on her face to counteract it, “And video games do the same thing.”

“Like a guy who drops dead with ten stab wounds without a single tear in his shirt?” Sam offered after a few seconds of silence. CJ shrugged. “No, that was magic. Kind of.. Like the pull you guys have with me.. How I get your injuries.. It’s similar to that.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Dean sighed, shaking his head as he continued on their trek to their first stop. 

* * *

They needed to question the assistant, but CJ had mentioned she needed to meet up with the actual showcasers. She wanted to get a read on stage times, who was on at time of death and everything. Sam had agreed that it was a good idea, but Dean had warned her to stay out of trouble.

She wouldn’t.

“Heya, Lollipop.”

“ _ Dear Snickerdoodles-! _ ”

Gabriel burst out laughing as she tripped over her feet, clutching at a nearby wall to shoot him a glare. “You need to stop doing that-!”

“I can’t pop in on my favorite little anomaly?”

“Not like a damn jack-in-the-box, no-!” She argued, feeling her heart gradually calm before she sighed, rolling her eyes, “I’ve got a cover, I slipped it through the management, they’re giving me the slot before Jay’s, I’ll be performing.”

“The boys know?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Not a clue,” she grimaced, glancing away, “I need to stall.. Just so they can check out Guyliner’s room.. Keep him occupied.. Away from fissures.. Check his pockets..”

“So, you need to be a diversion?” He tilted his head. She nodded, running a hand through her hair before giving him a slow, thoughtful look. “Alright, I know that look.. I’ve seen it hundreds of times.. What are you thinking..?”

“Need an assistant?” he offered, raising an eyebrow when she narrowed her eyes.

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“You want to stall, don’t you? We need to keep them on their toes, keep them asking for more.”

“Oh, boy.. I’m gonna regret this..”

* * *

 

She got a call nearly an hour later, and she was just sliding into Cleo with a garment bag over her arm. Flicking the phone up to her ear, she let Gabriel slide into her passenger seat before she sat down and closed her won door. “Dean, what’s up?”

“I’ve got a lead, can you meet me at four twenty six Bleecker street-? I’ve got Sam questioning more hat-racks and I’d rather not walk in without knowing the situation.”

Amazing what having a third person on a team does to dynamic.

“Alright, I’ll be there in.. ten minutes,” she glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky, her eyebrows furrowing, “Are you there now?”

“Just on the corner, figured I’d wait for a heads up.”

She smiled, then, softly as she closed her eyes. “Yeah.. I’ll be there.. Just sit tight.”

She clicked the phone closed, and sat up straight, raising an eyebrow at her copilot as he crunched on a chocolate bar. “Think we can hold off on practice for a half hour?”

“Sure thing, sugar lumps,” he grinned. 

“You can come if you go invisible,” she grinned, stretching her smile, “It  _ is  _ pretty funny.”

“I’ll take a look or two..”

“See you inside.”

* * *

Dean and CJ walked down the dark, dirty alleyway with purpose, Dean with his guard up and CJ with her hands in her black trench coat pockets. Dean had given her a look after buying a black, white, grey and tan one, but she had defended herself at the store that she would need to coordinate her outfits.

Sam didn’t question it.

They passed a homeless man collecting cans in a garbage bag, and they finally made it to the iron-storm-door of 426. 

Dean knocked five, quick times, and CJ stepped back with a dark, serious look on her face.

Dean glanced at her expression, seeing her stance and straightening out ever so slightly as the door swung open with a creak, and a young man with a crew-cut opened the inner door, looking Dean up and down before flicking his eyes toward CJ. Dean spoke first, his tone a bit wavering as he raised an eyebrow. “We’re, uh.. Here to see Chief..?”

The boy at the door looked confused, flicking his eyes from him, to the woman behind him, then understandably back to Dean before opening the door and stepping back. Dean held the door open for CJ, and the door guy seemed to cement whatever his brain had first supplied before he nodded toward the corridor to the left.

Dance music pulsed slightly, faintly in the background as he lead them down a short flight of stairs, CJ’s boots clanking smoothly down each step as she took her time. Dean held back a bit while she was slow, raising an eyebrow at her cool, unchanging expression as she watched the young man with stony eyes.

The man stopped when they were a good ways from the stairway, giving them both a quick, furtive glance and nod. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything.”

He met Dean’s eye, specifically, before giving CJ a little tip of his head, and turning to go back up the stairs.

Dean met her eyes when the door closed behind the kid, and he glanced toward the end of the room, where the pulsing seemed to come from. “What the Hell is going on..?”

“Wait for it..” she murmured. She sounded both cut-throat and detached, looking for all the world as if she were bored out of her mind.

“Why did he look at you like that?” he raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the stairs with his voice lowered. 

“Three.. Two.. one..”

A door creaked open from the floor further down the room, and Dean straightened up, squaring his shoulders as a large, bulky figure started walking up a set of stairs, light illuminating his body and hiding his features as the music seemed to get much clearer.

The man, scruffy beard, leather pants, leather vest and black police officer's hat, carried a tasseled whip, smacking it to his open palm as he walked closer to the two dark-suit wearing people in front of him, though the female had been angled just behind Dean after he’d seen how large the figure was, at first.

“You are  _ really _ gonna get it tonight, big boy..”

Dean had no words as he processed the situation, giving the man, who continued to crack the whip lightly against his palm, a calm, polite smile. “There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. I, uh.. I think I’ve been had.”

“Oh, you ain’t been had,” the man chuckled, shaking his head, “Till you’ve been had by the Chief.”

Dean looked downright terrified.

“Oh, and before we get started.. What’s your safe word?”

“Excuse me, Mr Chief-?” a soft, feminine voice spoke up, and Dean swore he heard angels singing in the mercy that CJ provided as she stepped forward, pushing him behind her and turning a gentle smile toward the leather clad man. He’d stopped his whipping, looking confused, and she pulled a flipbook from her pocket, flashing the FBI badge and Identification card with ease. “Hi, I’m agent Jordan, this is Agent Ulrich. We’re here to talk about a recent crime that happened in the city. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of Patrick Vance, would you?”

“Role play..?” the man asked slowly, looking confused, but the terror on the man’s face had faded to gruff, shivering relief as he flicked out his badge as well, and the woman shook her head. “No, sir. We were informed by a suspect that you had altercations with the deceased that cost you fifty thousand dollars in royalties. We’d like to get your statement to confirm or deny this claim.”

“So.. this.. Isn’t..?”

“We’re not customers,” Dean gruffed, receiving a heel to his shoe and grunting when CJ smacked his badge away with her own, stepping forward to give the man a closer look at her credentials. “Sir, this is quite serious. Patrick Vance was brutally murdered, and we are on the investigative team to solve this crime. We’d like your cooperation.”

“I don’t know any Vance’s,” he shook his head, frowning as he let his whip fall limply to his side, his other hand coming up to rub the sweat from his forehead and slide beneath his hat in sudden distress, “They mentioned my name?”

“Hmm..” she nodded, narrowing her eyes before shaking her head with a sigh, “Seems we’ll be needing to place an arrest for false information. A heavy fine and jail time for the mental trauma should do it, huh, Ulrich?”

“Yes, please,” Dean seethed, breathing deeply as he ran a hand over his face.

“My apologies for wasting your time,” CJ gave the spooked man a nod, and a reassuring smile, “Rest assured, we’ll catch the bastard. No need to worry.”

“Uh.. thanks..” the man murmured, shooting Dean a wince and an apologetic smile, “Sorry about.. That..”

“No worries,” CJ flashed him a grin, and he calmed down ever so slightly while Dean shot her an offended look, “It’s not the first, nor the last time he’ll be hit on by men.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Dean grumbled, following her out of the basement that smelled like sweat and disappointment. “God, I felt like I was going to die..”

“Oh, poor, poor sexy Dean..” CJ cackled, shaking her head as she lead him out the door they had entered, flashing her badge to the doorman and seeing him jump a bit before they exit, “Can’t handle the fact that you turn straight men gay..”

“Shut up,“ Dean grunted, running a hand down his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a beer..”

“You need to be sober,” She rolled her eyes, “You need to save Jeb tonight.”

“Right, right,” the man grumbled, grimacing as he glared at the building the further they walked down the alley back toward their cars, “Guyliner hangs from a noose tonight, right?”

“Yep,” she sighed.

“And you’re busy?”

“Yep.”

“ _ Great _ .”


	64. Chapter 64

“Find anything interesting?”

Dean spooked Sam out of his dazed reverie as they waited in the lounge area of the magic show theatre. His brother giving him a confused look before snapping back to attention with a shake of his head, “Uhh, no. You?”

“Nothing I want to talk about, or think about, ever again,” Dean grimaced. His eyes found the duo that set him up, and he gestured for his brother to follow as he marched right down the stairs.

“The Chief, huh?” he asked brightly, amiably as his brother shot him a look of confusion. 

“What’s the matter, the Chief not your type?” the shorter man chuckled, sharing a laugh with the man with a beard as they met eyes.

“You know I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice,” Dean quipped. CJ had said it enough times and in a similar tone that it felt amazing to hear himself say it for once.

“How?” Beard asked, raising an eyebrow, “You’re no fed.”

“We con people for a living, son,” the first man raised his eyebrows in an almost chastising way. “It takes more than a fake badge to get past us.”

* * *

 

 

* * *

“Think they’ll get caught?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, and CJ rolled her eyes before reaching across the table and pushing the mask down, over his face. “I know they will, be glad we asked the theatre for Jay to let us do this.”

“Ready for some magic?”

“Just.. play it cool.. Don’t transfigure anyone into anything you know I’ll find uncomfortable.”

“I was thinking a bunny.”

“Subtle. Classic. I like it.”

“ _ Ladies and gentlemen, due to a small change in rotary, we will be adding another, starting act for tonight, before the Amazing Jay _ .”

The crowd murmured in confusion, and both CJ and Gabriel shared a look, before taking their places behind the curtain.

Everything was set up with a snap, and CJ rolled her eyes at his predictability, adjusting the top hat on her head and quickly shooting a text to Sam and Dean. Jeb’s room number. Along with ‘Burn the Card.’

“ _ This act was approved by Mister Jay and is acclaimed to be fairly mystic, as well as a little.. Gruesome.. Please be cautious of young eyes, and enjoy the show-! I present to you, Angel, and Hat Trick-!” _

The crowd applauded, and the curtain parted, revealing the stage to the bustling audience. 

Sam and Dean were nowhere in sight. 

Perfect.

CJ was clad in a black, fitted tux, with a white undershirt, and a sparkling green bow tie around her neck. Atop her head was a magician’s hat, with a rose in full bloom just above her left eye. Gabriel was clad differently, with a full-faced mask, and a black-and-white suit, left for white and right for black he also wore a top hat, but his was white, with a black tiger lily in place on the side. CJ approved the outfit.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” CJ greeted the crowd with a smile, bright pink lips and sparkling green eyeshadow, “My name is Angel, and this is my assistant Hat Trick. And tonight, we will be showing you a bit of the.. Supernatural..”

The crowd murmured, a bit confused by the set up, a long box set upon a rolling cart with an open bottom, a display of different styled swords, a bowl, a pile of herbs, and a book of matches. There was also a long table on the side, set up with a folded sheet, a hula hoop, a dog collar, a leash, and an empty birdcage.

“Hatty, why don’t you say ‘Hi’ to the lovely guests-?” she offered politely. He played the joker act flawlessly, waving his fingers in a shy hello before bringing up a red handkerchief and “sneezing” into it. A ball flew out, and CJ was quick to catch it, giving him an exaggerated look of annoyance when the crowd started to laugh. “Hatty, it’s not time for this yet..” He looked at her with a tilted head, silently bringing his hands up beneath his chin, as if batting his eyes, turning to the audience with a come hither motion, causing them to pipe up that they wanted to see. Sighing, CJ rolled her eyes, holding up the ball and shaking her head. “Alright, alright-! We’ll do this trick, but after that, we go back to the routine, okay?”

He nodded, exaggerated, and some younger couples laughed at CJ’s exasperated shake of her head.

“Now where is that wand,” she looked around her, checking her pockets and frowning while Gabriel stood in the background, holding up the stick with an innocent tilt of the head. The audience laughed. She looked up at the laughter, following some eyes before turning to her assistant with an expectant look. “Hatty did you take my wand again?”

He shook his head, hiding it behind his back while the audience continued to laugh. “Hatty..?” She pestered, he slipped it up his sleeve, and shrugged playfully to the audience, before flicking his eyes out and pointing to a random person.

“They have it?” she raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with her hands on her hips, “Why would they have my wand?” He shrugged again, putting his hands behind his back and looking away as if he were whistling.

“Alright Hatty, jacket off,” CJ waved at him, and he rolled his head from side to side in a begrudging manner as he did so, slipping it off and handing it over so she could ‘inspect it’, or more, show the audience that it was ‘clean’. Well, as clean as it cold be when things like cards, a giant bouncy ball, a hammer and a watermelon came tumbling out. But no wand. She handed it back.

He shrugged, turning to the tables with his hands pressed in a pleading position, shaking them forward. CJ rolled her eyes, and turned to the audience. “If the ladies and gentleman could check their bags.. Or sleeves..?”

There was a bit of murmuring, before a man jumped, shaking out his arm as a wand clattered ot the table, causing his seat mates to burst out laughing as he looked at the thing that was not there seconds earlier.

“If someone could bring up my wand, please-?” A younger boy had brought it up after that, and she thanked him with a smile before giving him the giant bouncy ball. “Here, for your troubles.”

She stood back up again, and pulled the ball off of the table, inspecting the pure, bright blue of it before tapping the side with her wand, “Alright, Hatty.. I know you like this one..”

He nodded quickly, and the audience sat forward in their seats as she rolled it around in her hand, before shaking her head, “Alright, one hamster, coming up-” a clap cut her off, and she turned her head to Gabriel in honest confusion. “What?”

He shook his head, miming for ‘bigger’.

“Uhm.. Cat..?”

‘Bigger-!’

“Dog..?”

He turned to the audience, gesturing them again.

“A horse-!” a lady called out, murmurs of agreement and laughter following as CJ raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Well alright, horse it is.”

* * *

“I’m dying,” CJ was bent over a bar in laughter, tears streaking out of her eyes as she clutched at the wooden bench, “Gabe, no-! Why did you-! Why did it appear under the table-?!”

“It was funny-! You know it,” he grinned, knocking back a swig of the fruity, strawberry something she had ordered for them in a round. She did have good taste in drinks. “When she found the underwear with the hearts on it in the back of her shirt, she started laughing, too.”

“Yes, but the lizard thing was a bit far.. That man was  _ eating _ -!”

“It was funny-! And he didn’t die-!”

“Yes, I am proud of you for your public restraint.” She grinned, knocking back a shot of amber liquid before giving the male beside her a smile, it was a buzzed, hazy smile, but a smile all the same. “That was.. Really fun..”

“It was, wasn’t it,” he nodded, smiling wide when she shook her head, before reaching out and shaking his shoulder, trying to get his complete and utter attention. “No-No, like, that was one of the most fun things I have ever done..  _ Ever _ , like..  _ Ever, _ dude.. You.. you are awesome..”

“Doesn't have to end here, you know,” he raised an eyebrow, seeing her smile fade after the short, heavy pause that followed, “We can do all kinds of fun stuff while you bounce around..”

“I hate not telling the boys,” she murmured, quietly, her eyes stuck on her empty glass as she stared at it in silence, “You’re friends with them, later, for a little while, after they save Khali..”

“They save Khali?” he murmured, sitting up straight when she turned to give him a sullen, pained look, “Sensitive information, but yeah.. At a god’s meeting.. A hotel.. A long time from now..”

“Really?” his eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned back in his place as he chewed that over. “Huh..”

“You made ‘em a porno, thingy, too.” She giggled then, though it was soft, and she taken to opening the peanuts offered to the table, though she wasn’t eating them, merely cracking them open and letting the insides fall to the table with little clatters. “I cried the first time I saw that vision.. Really bad.. Like.. I ruined a  _ shirt _ , bad..”

He hummed in acknowledgement, rising his glass to his lips before knocking back the sweet drink, and letting out a sigh. “Alright, we’ve been gone long enough, better get you to the duo before they issue a search party..”

“I don’t wanna,” she murmured, tucking her face into her arm and lowering her head to the table, “Jeb probably died.. They’re gonna be stressed.. I’m not gonna be able to handle their freaking questions half smashed..”

“Fully smashed,” Gabe muttered, seeing her vague searching hand knock over her little pile of peanuts before it fisted into the leftover husks. “Alright, you need sleep..”

“I don’t wanna..”

“I know you don’t but you need to sleep this off,” he sighed, moving to get off of his bar stool and put an arm around her shoulder, a click of his fingers and the tab and tip were on the bar, allowing him to pick her up and carry her bridal style out the door. “Woah-there, easy,” he felt her arm swing out, probably to push him away, but it was much too weak for anything more than a pat to his chest, before fisting into his fresh, clean grey shirt. She tucked her head down against him, and he felt her hot breath against his chest as he walked her out to her car. He’d need to drive her. He wouldn’t have enough energy to flash her there, heal her, and flash away. 

“I hate dreaming about the darkness..”

He paused in his steps, halfway to the car, and looked down to see her fingers curled tightly into his shirt, tears beading in the corner of her eyes as she huddled closer. “I hate the pain in all of them..”

“If you ask nicely, I’m sure Sam or Dean won’t mind you sharing a bed with them.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Don’t make me.”

“I have to.”

“Please?”

“Not even if you ask nicely.”

“Gabe~”

“You warned me about this, I’m not backing down.”

“ _ Gaaabe~ _ ..”

* * *

 

“Looks like this guy Jay was a pretty big deal in the seventies,” Sam read off from his place at his laptop.

“Which, in magician land, means what, exactly?” Dean droned. 

“Big enough to play Radio City music hall,” Sam tilted his head in a bit of respect.

“What got him in their “Where are they now?” files?” the elder brother huffed.

“He got old,” Sam shook his head, seeing nothing else to add, no injuries, no scandals.

Dean looked up, seeing Sam’s expression and frowned as he gave a slight nod. “Okay, so maybe Incredible Jay is using real magic to stage a comeback.”

“It’s possible,” Sam nodded, his voice light, “Some kind of spell that works a death transference.”

“How does the tarot card mix into it?” Dean scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed, going back to his search. Dean shook his head, completely done with the situation.  _ Witches _ ..

“Man.. Hope I die before I get old..” he sighed, getting to his feet and going to get a closer look at the card on the table beside his brother, “Whole thing seems brutal, don’t it?”

“You think we will?” Sam asked quietly.

“What?”

“Die before we get old?”

“Haven’t we both already?” Dean pointed out with a raise of his eye brows.

“You know what I mean, Dean,” he rolled his eyes, pulling a smile from his brother before he hurried to continue, “I-I mean, I- Do you think we’ll still be chasing demons when we’re 60?”

“No, I think we’ll be dead,” he admit, continuing at his brother’s disbelieving scoff. “For good.” Sam rolled his eyes, and he got a bit more into the conversation, needing his brother to see his point about this. “What- you, you wanna end up like Travis? Huh? Or Gordon, maybe?”

“There’s Bobby,” Sam pointed out.

“Oh yeah,” Dean scoffed, looking away, “There’s a poster child for growing old gracefully.”

“‘Maybe we’ll be different, Dean.”

“What kind of kool aid you drinking, man?” Dean looked over, seeing his brother’s conflicted expression and shaking his head, “Sammy, it ends bloody.. Or sad. That’s just the life..” Sam stopped, considered his words, and steeled himself, shutting his laptop and turning to his brother with a firm expression. “What if we could win?”

“‘Win’?” Dean repeated.

“If there was a way we could just.. Put an end to all of it..” Sam’s words were low, and thoughtful, and he looked damn near desperate.

“Is there something going on you’re not telling me?” Dean demanded quickly, seeing his brother's expression and jumping to immediate, dark conclusions.

“No.”

“ _ Sammy. _ ”

“No-! Look- I’m just saying,” Sam shook his head, rising from his chair with a shake of his head, “I.. I just wish there was a way we could..” his hands mimed out in front of him, as if crushing some invisible force. “Go after the source.” His hands dropped, and he looked at Dean imploringly, wishing for him to understand without having him spell it out. “That’s all..”

When Dean looked unconvinced, Ruby’s words from the night before cut into his thoughts. “Cut the head off the snake.”

“Well, the problem with the snake is that it has a thousand heads,” Dean quipped, “Evil bitches just keep piling up out of the volkswagen .”

“..Yeah,” Sam admit quietly after a moment, “Guess you’re right.”

“Why don’t we see if we can track down CJ,” Dean sighed, lifting a hand to rub over his eyes, “Let her know Guyliner is dead and we need more info.. I’ll see what I can dig up on this tarot card.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reference to Gabe's mask in the show.   
> Don't forget to include your submissions for the Convention Special chapter in the comment sections-!  
> The guidelines are posted in Chapter 59, and there is no limit to how many you can ask.  
> Dares and requests are also valid,   
> Example A:  
> Person asks Dean to sing a song.  
> Dean is likely to try to brush it off, but with cajoling from CJ, most likely Sam will be against it, he may or may not, depending on how it is asked and what song they request.  
> Person B asks Character A to give Character B a kiss on the cheek, the others are going to have mixed reactions, as will the duo involved in the request, it will either happen or not depending on how the request is phrased, and the relationship between the two Characters up until the chapters that have been written before the Special.
> 
> Good luck,  
> Pistol


	65. Chapter 65

“CJ, where are you..?”

“Sam, _ what the _ -..? What time is it..?”

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning, CJ. Where are you?”

“ _ I _ .. have no idea.. I’ll ask..”

“CJ, don’t hang up the phone- we need you on the case. Please give us a little more leeway..”

“ _ Gimme _ .. Gimme a minute..”

She let the phone fall limply to her lap, and she inhaled the sweet, heavenly scent of what could only be waffles. She looked over to the foot of the bed, where a man sat perched across from her at an elongated breakfast in bed tray. Two piles of waffles, a whip cream container, fruits, chocolates and both frozen coffee and chocolate milk. Wowzza.

At her side was a familiar, fluffy white dog, and she blearily reached out her hand to give him a loving rub between his ears and down his back. Gabriel was doing a morning crossword.

“Where am I?” she asked softly. 

“Hilton Garden Inn,” he nodded toward the window, showing Sioux City’s skyline with a press of his lips, “I made breakfast.”

“I can see that,” she sniffed, blinking her eyes slowly as she lifted her free hand to her temple, willing away the red that lined her vision, and the screams dying in her ears. “I need a second..”

“Take your time.”

“Right..”

After a few deep breaths, she brought the phone up to her ear, hearing Sam’s quiet, muffled conversation with Dean. They were debating whether they should track her phone or not.

“Moose-!” she called, waiting a moment to hear what sounded like the conversation cutting off before what she now knew to be speaker was brought away from his shirt. “Yeah, CJ, I’m here. And stop calling me Moose. Where are you?”

“Hilton Garden Inn,” she repeated the name slowly, her head pounding as she gradually lied back down, feeling Sherlock move to nuzzle up against her size and look at her with glassy, sad black eyes. She pet him again. “I’m.. I’m with my friend, I’m safe I just.. Had a  _ nightmare _ ..”

There was silence, and when she could feel the tension through the phone, she continued, “I’ll be there soon, just let me eat and change. I have Cleo, so I’ll meet you at Jay’s hotel in two hours. Find it, will you? Shouldn’t be hard..”

“ _ Is it him _ ?” Dean asked swiftly, the woman in bed taking a slow, deep breath before she let it back out, and turned over to cuddle into the dog at her side. “No. It’s not him. But you need to talk to him.”

“ **_We,_ ** _ ”  _ Sam corrected her, _ “ _ **_We_ ** _ need to talk to him. That includes you. CJ, we need to start working together more on these cases, you can’t keep running off to drink and party and anything else you might do on your own.. _ ”

“Wow, Mom,” CJ sat up then, her voice getting sharp as she bit back a glare, “Sure thing-! Next time I’ll  _ ask _ if I can go be an adult and not, you know, do something that normal adults do. Especially when I’m untrained, inexperienced, and incredibly naive to the dangers that may lurk in every shadow.”

“ _ CJ, that’s not what I- _ ”

“Shut up.  _ Now _ . Make it three hours.”

“ _ CJ- _ ”

She shut the phone.

She let the device fall the the bed with a soft thump, lifting her knees so she could press her forehead into them with a wince. “Mmph.. Fucking..  _ Oww _ ..”

“Hangover?” he asked softly.

“Of a sort,” she whispered, flinching as she lifted a hand up to touch her shoulder, “Damnit.. It feels so fucking real..”

“They’re getting stronger?” he asked gently, sliding the table over so she could more easily reach the stack of waffles and treats. She took the coffee first, the McDonalds cup ice cold to her fingers as she sipped at the slushy caramel goodness.

“Yeah.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he smiled, reaching back behind him to pull out a metal box, about the size to hold a pair of women’s boots. “I may have a cure for your headache somewhere.”

“Gabriel..” she murmured, letting her legs fall as she stared at the hex-box with wide, watery eyes. “Did you..?”

“I found it. What’s next on the treasure hunt?”

He should have been a little miffed when she’d pushed the table aside and knocked over his stack of waffles, maybe a little miffed that it had completely fallen to the floor in a mess, but when her arms had wound around his neck, and her head tucked against his chest, he felt something warm, and pulling coursing through him. His arms drawing around her tightly as she started to sniff, then cry, and openly bawl, face pressed tightly to his button-up and snot leaking from her nose as she clung to him.

He wanted to be a little annoyed that she was taking so many liberties..

_ But he couldn’t. _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She’d eaten a four-course breakfast, had a jacuzzi bath, gotten a massage and dressed to the nines in her FBI persona before she’d left the hotel. Gabriel had, of course, provided the massage via wished-up masseuse, and CJ had loved every pressing second of it.

Coasting along the road in Cleo, she turned into the lot of the hotel Sam had sent her, arriving minutes after the boys and walking right inside with a click of her subtle black heels.

Tapping her foot, she waited for the elevator to get to the third floor before it let her out, and she walked directly up to Sam and Dean as they loitered around a corner, their eyes on a distant door before she’d cleared her throat, and spooked them. She held the bag in her arm up for them to see, Dean’s face briefly disapproving before she shook her head, and rolled her eyes, walking away and toward the door they’d been eagle-eyeing.

She knocked firmly, several times, and readied her FBI badge as she waited for the door to open. When Jay had opened the door, she gave him a slow, patient look as she held up her badge. “Hello, I’m Agent Jordan, my colleagues and I are investigating a series of strange murders. We’d like to talk to you about our main suspect, if you have a few minutes to spare.”

“FBI..?” he repeated, scoffing a little as he narrowed his eyes, and held out his hand, “Let me see that.”

“As long as you don’t make it disappear,” she deadpanned. His eyes narrowed at her face, and he opened his mouth, but the way she raised her eyebrows had him pausing, “Do I know you?”

“Likely,” she nodded, “I was undercover the night previous with another of my associates. As I said, we are investigating a murder. Do you have the time or not? I could always call up a cruiser to bring you to the station. That, for sure, is  _ always _ a way to make time.”

“Come in..” he nodded slowly, seeing the boys behind her and furrowing his eyebrows between the clear severity of their expressions. “What can I help you with?”

“You’re friends, Charlie,” she let him shut the door and go further into the room before she spoke, “and Vernon, decided it would be a good idea to send my colleague and I on a wild goose chase to a sex retail for a man named ‘Chief’. Upon return, to the night of your show, my colleague, knowing the suspect was, in fact, present, played along, in order to leave with, quite possibly his life. I need you to understand that what we are about to tell you, is confidential, and quite a deadly serious statement.”

“What’s going on?” he shook hi shand, handing back her badge when she was silent, “What do Charlie and Vernon have to do with murder?”

“Your friend, Charlie, is using confidential means to murder competition to your act.”

Jay was silent, staring at her for four, long seconds, before he burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he brought a hand to his mouth and shook his head. “Charlie-? Bad knee,  _ Charlie _ -?” He continued to laugh, the male’s confused, and slightly offended expressions making him laugh harder. CJ remained unaffected. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you’ve noticed, but we can’t speed walk down a hallway without throwing something anymore..”

“As I said,” she quipped, her tone darker as she narrowed her eyes, “Confidential means. If you’re willing to listen, with the idea that Charlie is, in fact, murdering people, in mind, I will show you a similar technique that he uses.”

“CJ-” Dean’s voice was warning, but her eyes were sharp when she shot him a look, and held up a hand to keep him quiet. “It’s not the exact same, but it is similar. Are you willing to listen, or not? We need your help.”

“My friend is not a killer,” he shook his head, calming down as he folded his arms across his chest, “There is no way he could murder anyone.”

“Funny, I have evidence to prove otherwise,” she raised an eyebrow, and gestured to Sam, then her eyebrow lifting at Jay with mock impatience, “So, are you willing to listen?”

“Show me how he does it, or,  _ similarly _ ,” he airquoted around her word, and she blinked slowly at his gesture as he continued, “As you put it. I’ll listen after you show me that.”

“Sam,” CJ quipped, “hold out your hand. Show him. Then cut it.”

“CJ,” Dean piped up, but she was faster to actually turn on her heel with an annoyed look. “Dean. I am  _ done  _ with the little sister thing, okay? If I do magic, it is to  _ help _ . I get that you’re incredibly pissed about the  _ Incident  _ with the ghost germs, but for once can you  _ not _ complain that I am practicing magic? It is absolutely  _ no  _ harm to you, and I heal perfectly  _ fine _ , Sam only needs to prick his freaking finger at this point, and I am not going to let anything else happen to you two during this case, alright? I don’t need the heart-scare. So  _ shut up _ , and let us do this. If you want to rant about my hobbies to me, do it later. I had a great night up until I fell asleep, and I am running on three cups of coffee and determination. So, JUST SHUT UP-!”

The heavy panting of her breath was the only sound in the room, and Sam’s eyes were nearly as wide as dinner plates as both he and Jay looked between the stunned to silence Dean and the aggravated woman barely tall enough to reach his chest.

“Dude,” Sam whispered, “We’ll talk about this later, alright? After the case.”

“..Fine.”

Dean’s admission surprised not only CJ, but Sam as well, and he straightened up his back a bit before clearing his throat. “Fine. Do your magic, but if I catch you doing anything stupid, you will regret it.”

“I regret coming here, sometimes,” CJ admit after a scoff, lifting a hand to push back her hair when the boys had jerk in surprise, “Sometimes I wonder why I bother. You did well enough on your own as I saw it. Sam, prick your finger.”

She held out her hand to the magician, and he hesitated, before he took it, watching as she spread her fingers, palm up, for him to examine. Sam waited a minute to gather his thoughts, clearing his throat before he reached into his sock and withdrew a knife, holding it out for the magician to see before flexing his own hand, and pressing it to the skin of his ring finger.

Jay’s eyes returned to the hand of the girl as it shifted, and he watched in silent, awed fascination as a cut seemed to materialize out of thin air, showing a line of red before a drop of blood seemed to bead up, then dribble down the side of her finger. She pulled away quickly, bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking on it balefully as she looked away, Sam putting the knife in his pocket and tugging the rag from the back of his pants to clean it. He may have pressed a little hard..

“..Okay..” Jay murmured, surprising the three as he nodded slowly, and moved to sink into a chair beside a small table. “What is it about Charlie..?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CJ flipped idly through the newly acquired grimoire in her hands, tired hazel eyes catching snippets of words before she would continue on to the next page or two. 

Sam bit the inside of his cheek as he flicked his eyes from CJ, who sat in the boys’ room chair, to Dean, who was perched on the end of the right-side bed. Neither had said a word since they had gotten there. CJ had gotten her bag from her room and plopped herself into the seat across from him, using the thumb of her left hand to pick off the peeling paint on her right.

“Why don’t we start..” Sam offered lightly, earning immediate stares from the other two humans as he clapped his hands together once, “With a little ice breaker.” when neither even moved to look at him, he raised his voice just a bit to take initiative. “CJ, I feel.. Concerned.. When you do magic, because magic is often tied to rituals and demonic deals. Now, your turn.”

“You don’t want  _ me  _ to say anything I’m concerned about, Sam,” she murmured, seeing his flinch before she went back to her task. “I had a shitty sleep. And it will continue to be shitty for the next few days.”

“You don’t need to take it out on us,” Dean quipped, glaring when she shot him a similar look and sat up in her seat. “You know what,  _ I..  _ I feel  _ angry _ when you do magic because that shit is a slippery slope that leads to nothing good. And I don’t want to have to kill you for doing something we  _ all _ regret.”

“I think I have a better handle on my priorities than that, Dean,” she grumbled, gritting her teeth and she planted her feet on the floor, “Seriously, you sing kumbaya about trust and shit, and then you turn around and constrict my help for one mistake,  _ one-! And it was to prevent you from seeing a Lilith hallucination and relive Hell for twenty minutes-!” _

She breathed sharp, and heavy, and the room was silent again. She slowly lowered herself back into her chair, having gotten to her feet in her anger, before running a hand down her face. “I didn’t want you to see it.. I didn’t want you to feel it.. I could.. I could  _ handle _ kermit the frog running after me to eat my brain, but..  _ You _ .. I couldn’t handle the thought.. That I would  _ knowingly _ let you experience that bitch give you a heart attack.. You want to know why I like magic? It’s because you need it, it's because, down the road, where it’s darker, a  _ lot _ darker, with such a  _ damning _ lack of hope.. I will be there with the tools I need to make it right.. To fix things.. I will be there to keep the future, on its course, so you can get even just a  _ little _ good at the very end of it all..”

“And what would that be?” Dean scoffed.

“Wait and see,” she sighed, giving up completely as she shook her head, and stood up again, leaning over to give Sam a blank, sullen look before she looked away with a role of her eyes. “Sleep tonight, rest tomorrow. Leave the morning after. Keep  _ some _ of the timeline in tact, would you?”

The door closed behind her, leaving the boys in silence.

Sam took a deep breath, running a hand down his face as he reached for his laptop. Maybe he’d look for a case.

Dean stared in silence at the closed door, his hands over his mouth, dragging his face down and keeping his eyes open as he stared at the blank, mocking wood.

They’d talk to Jay tomorrow.

* * *

**And that concludes Hat Tricks.**

**We're getting to the good bits-!**

**Comments keep me invested in writing more.**


	66. Saved By The Bell

The door clicked open, and Sam slid into the Impala with a white nurse’s outfit and his canvas jacket. He shut the door quickly, and Dean was immediate to pounce on the lead. “So?”

“I think she’s telling the truth,” Sam sighed, looking tired, “I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally, but not physically. Kind of sounds like demonic possession to me.”

“Kind of?” Dean gruffed, more than a little skeptic with the case to begin with.

“She didn’t see any black smoke or smell sulfur,” Sam nodded in aquisit.

“Maybe it’s not a demon, I mean, kids can be vicious.”

“Well, I mean we’re already here,” Sam nodded, “Might as well check out the school.”

Dean paused, thinking back, then smiled, relaxing. “Right. The school.”

“What?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Truman High,” Dean grinned, “Home of the Bombers.”

“What’s your point?” Sam scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, pushing his secretly, sentimental bullcrap back behind his many layers of flannel, “I mean, we went there, like, for a month a million years ago.. Why are you so jazzed to go back?”

“I’m not,” Sam defended himself quickly, shaking his head, “I just think it’s worth looking into.”

“Alright,” Dean shrugged, moving to start his car, the stopped, turning to give his brother a frown, “Well, what’s our cover, C-..” he stopped, pausing a second as Sam turned to look at him, before he cleared his throat, and continued, as if he’d never stopped. “C-IA? FBI? Homeland security?” He tried for a tight, ruggish grin, but his brother was having none of it, both boys pointedly ignoring the vacancy in the back seat like the plague. “Swedish exchange students?”

“...Don’t worry,” Sam sighed, after a moment of shaking his head. But he never looked behind them, either, “I got an idea.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“This is a stupid plan to trump all stupid plans,” CJ grumbled, tugging at her knee-length skirt and sending the man beside her a grimace, “And when did you get off on playing hunter?”

“Just now,” he grinned, flicking his eyes up and down her ensemble before frowning, “Is that seriously what kids are wearing these days?”

“I’m a British exchange student, I have to be classy. It’s expected.”

“And you’re going in as a student?”

“Would you prefer I posed as a teacher?”

“True,” he nodded. 

“Alright, wish me luck, Gabe. And pray that I don’t wind up with Dean’s gym class. I opted out of gym with over credits, but I  _ did  _ try to sync my schedule with the boy who gets possessed.”

“Take pictures for me, would ya’ Lollipop.”

“Yes, Gabe..”

“Kisses for the road?”

She held out her hand, and he dropped a bag of Hershey’s kisses into her palm, making her smile as she pulled one out, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. “Alright, let’s do this.”

“Have a good day, pumpkin bar~!” He sang as she exit Cleo’s passenger door, drawing more than a few wide eyes as she pulled her backpack from the floor and gave the man driving a frown, then a smile, and a wave. 

“Toodles, Sweetheart,” her accented voice twittered, and he looked to be holding back a laugh as he revved the engine, and nodded.

He drove away after giving her a cheesy, two fingered salute, and she waited until Cleo’s  _ SPN GRL  _ plates were completely gone before she turned toward the school with a slow, deep breath. Oh boy, this really  _ was  _ the stupid plan to trump all stupid plans..

“Excuse me, sir?” she called out when a teacher seemed to pass by, fixing the collar of his sweater and looking up at the accent with brief confusion. She’d done her makeup to look a bit doll-like today. And she’d gone for flats. She would be on the taller side of teenage girls, but there was nothing she could really do about her bust, hips and ass. They’d already set in.

“Yes, hello. My name is Eleanor. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction to the academy’s directory?”

“Directory?” he repeated, his eyebrows pinching together before he gave her a welcoming smile, “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you from any classes. You must be new.” He adjusted the jacket over his arm, that also held his briefcase and a cup of steaming coffee. “My name’s Mister Wyatt. I teach English One, Two, and Three. Are you taking any of those?”

“I believe I have you just after lunch, for English Three,” she smiled, pulling a slip of paper from her jacket and opening it for him to see, “I just wanted to be sure nothing had changed in my commute from London to here.”

“You’re from London-?” he raised an eyebrow, interested as she nodded gently, and tucked the paper back away, “How is America treating you?”

“Honestly?” she laughed weakly, seeing his imploring expression and getting almost immediate exhaustion, “Everything goes so fast, and it’s always so loud.. Plus the streets are simply impossible to navigate-! I nearly had a heart attack on the drive here-! American’s streetways are death traps-!”

He was laughing at mid-point in her rant, and she had to take a second to cover her eyes to hide her own laughter before she leveled him with an apologetic look. “My apologies, for the attitude, sir, but the shift was sudden and jarring..”

“I understand,” he nodded, laughing a bit under his breath as he shook his head, “Why don’t I get you to the office, we can talk more about the incredulously of America when you find a free minute.”

“I would appreciate that tremendously,” she smiled.

* * *

“May I sit here?” CJ asked softly, looking over the antsy table of people in front of her. They looked like a book-club, and they were set a bit far from the jock’s table. Just her type of people.

“Aren’t you that new girl?” one of the guys piped up in confusion, the group taking a silent, synced moment to take in her knee-length, pleated skirt, loose, stylish white blouse with flowy, mid-length sleeves, a dark blue blazer, matching her skirt, tights the color of opal and a pair of navy colored flats.

Her hair was cut, collarbone length in front, and high, eartip-level at the back of her head in two even, slanting swoops. Pinning back her ragged bangs was a hair clip with a fake piece of candy design on it in a bright gold. She also had a gangly, silver charm bracelet, and what looked like a locket around her neck, her baby blue painted tails clutching softly at her binders and books as she clutched them to her stomach.

“Hey-! Eleanor, wasn’t it-?”

“It’s Ella,” she turned at the call, her thick, British accent almost snippy at the exchange as she gave the sudden, large jock a look of confusion, “I’m sorry, have I spoken with you..? I’m terrible with faces..”

“Not yet, but I have Algebra with you first period, and James has you second for Latin,” he nodded toward her books, seeing the soft, confused look on her face grow with his words, “I wanted to know if you'd like to sit with me and my friends for lunch. They’d love to meet you. The school is  _ raving _ about getting a new kid.”

“ _ Raving _ , though the news might be,” she tried slowly, furrowing her eyebrows as she peered around his shoulder at the display of jocks and cheerleaders watching from the distance like vultures. “I’d rather not.. Thank you..”

“Oh come on, we won’t bite,” he chuckled, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, but drawing it back when she took a step to the left. “I’m not too sure of that. Your table mates look ready to ravage my lifeless husk.”

She heard a chorus of laughter behind her, and flashed the table a smile before looking into the boy’s offended face. Raising an eyebrow, she tilted her head, “I’m sorry, did I get that wrong? I’ve heard plenty to tell about how you slut-shamed a murder victim, just the day before yesterday..?”

“I-.. we-”

“Go away,” she droned, shooting him a look when he looked taken aback, opening his mouth to protest and stopping to slam her books on the table. “I said.  _ Go. Away. _ ”

He didn’t bother asking again.

“Wooowww..” 

“Are you suicidal or stupid?” one of the meeker, more drawn in girls whispered. CJ turned to her, offering her a grin, “Mostly stupid, with a dash of suicidal and certifiably bonkers.”

“Welcome to the table Ella.”

“Glad to be here. Now, what are your names, I promise I’ll try to remember-!”

* * *

“How was school..?”

“Gabriel.. Never again, please..”

She collapsed into the passenger side, and the door closed with a firm click. Gabriel drove away with a soft rev of the engine, and coasted out of the school lot, driving down the road toward their current stay, a two story house that had “magically” appeared out of nowhere, fully furnished with it’s own white-picket-fenced in yard and a funny purple mailbox.

“Your plan,” he shrugged, hearing her groan of despair and reaching across the arm rest to give her bare, shaky knee a soft squeeze. “Easy there, champ. The first day is always the hardest.”

“At least I wasn’t thrown into a dumpster from the second story,” she mused dryly.

“There is that,” he nodded in agreement. “So, what do you want to do tonight, movie marathon or something else?”

“I can’t drink, there’s an english test tomorrow and I’d like to stay on the good side of Sam’s favorite teacher, showing up to school smashed will give me no points.”

He hummed, pulling the car into the driveway after about ten minutes and quickly getting out, flashing to her door before she could even completely unbuckle before swinging it open and hauling her out like a doll. “ _ Ack- _ ! Gabe-! Put me down-!”

“You’re tired,” he rolled his eyes, closing the door with his hip and walking up toward their home. Sherlock barked brightly as he followed them inside from his playtime in the yard. “Think of it as princess treatment. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Ugh..” she threw her head back, then, going completely limp in his arms as she closed her eyes. “Fine, whatever.. Just keep the lights off..”

“Gotcha,” he nodded. 

“..Movie marathon. Something we can laugh at..”

“I’ve got an entire collection of everything. What do you feel like watching?”

“Everything..?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me warm and fuzzies. :)


	67. Chapter 67

It was the day after she’d come to the school, during her culinary arts class that Dirk the Jerk struck again. The sound of greens and veggies being blended at each table almost completely drowned out the chattering voices of the students.

CJ, however, kept her eye on the boy she knew was infected.

It felt like a dark, squeamish cloak around his body.

“Hey,” it was the jock who spoke up to her target, a gangly boy with a coconut hairstyle. “I need to copy your algebra homework again,”

The boy, looking like he’d rather be anywhere other than here, sat there in a daze. Not really reacting to the jock in any way. The jock, getting impatient, reached across the table, swatting his shoulder and making him sway a little. “Hey-!”

The boy slowly looked up at him, his dazed eyes sharpening as he focussed on the teenager in the track suit. “Why? .. ‘Cuz you’re a stupid brain-dead dick?”

The smaller boy pressed the button to start the blender, the top left off, and the jock leaned forward, his voice lowered, and his eyes hard. “I’m gonna shove my  _ fist _ down your  _ throat _ , you little freak.”

“That fist?” the dazed boy asked slowly.

“Yeah,” the other nodded, getting clearly worked up. CJ was on her feet in seconds, and shoving the empty stool in front of her out of the way as the boy reached for the boy’s left hand and shoved it into the blender. The jock started screaming, but the very next second, a body had crashed into the smaller male, sending him angling to the floor as his mouth was pried open and salt thrown in. 

The ghost left in a burst of black, sludge-like energy, and CJ hurried to her feet with a huff, tearing the bottom half of her shirt clean off and hurrying to the boy’s side while the room panicked. 

She quickly tied it around his hand in a hurry as he clutched his wrist, most of the damage averted since she had run so fast. “It’s okay- It’s okay-! Look here- Look at me-!” She kept her accent up as she soothed him, forcing his eyes to remain on her face as she used her left hand to smack his cheek, her right staunching the bleeding as she hurried to tie it around between bursts, “Easy, now.. Just relax, I’ve got you.. Just breath, in, and out.. In.. out.. Good, good, just like that.. In.. out.. In.. out..”

She got him to calm down quick enough, and the panic had gotten her a pass fof the nurse, along with several frantic others to quickly leave the room. Most having already left in a fit of panic after seeing the blood in the blender.

“What’s your name?” she asked him conversationally, keeping his eyes on her as she passed Sam, seeing his wide, disbelieving eyes, but keeping her attention on the maimed student. “Your first name, what is it?”

“T-Tyler..” he murmured, licking his lips as he looked over her face. She was.. Really pretty..

“Well, Tyler,” she continued to speak, knowing they would need to go down a flight of steps and around two corners before they would get to the nurse’s station. “That’s a wonderful name. Are you in track? Swimming perhaps?”

“Swim team..” he murmured, leaning closer to her when the distance had jolted his hand, and pressing his shoulder to the top of hers as he hunched over, “ _ Oww- oww-! _ that kid literally just- a blender, he just put my hand in a-”

“Tyler,” she spoke up again, drawing his wide and panicked eyes to her as she offered him a soft, calming smile. Strangely, he felt a little calmer. “I have to ask, but how often do you work out? Your biceps are amazing.”

“Four.. four days a week..” he murmured, his right hand clenching at his side before he’d reached forward to grab her arm. He was going into shock. “You.. you’re Ellen, right?”

“Eleanor, yes, but I prefer Ella,” she nodded, patting his good hand gently just as they made it in the door. “Miss nurse-! We could use some assistance-! Post haste-!”

“Oh, dear god-!”

“There’s nothing dear about him,” she muttered under her breath when the boy was taken off of her hands. He’d tried to cling to her shirt a bit, looking at her with lost eyes when she gently assured him she would wait until he was bandaged and released. Likely, Sam would be looking for her outside the door in three, two, one..

“What are you  _ doing  _ here?”

And cue the interrupting moose..

“Hello Samuel, it’s wonderful to see you again,” she kept the accent in place, shooting him a look when he looked ready to question it, and quickly continuing to speak, “And before you say anything, I am working a case.”

“A case,” Sam scoffed, raising an eyebrow in surprise when she tilted her head. “You’re working a case, on your own?”

“I already knew who it was, I was waiting for you blokes to get here.”

“Seriously,” he raised his eyebrows, and she reached a hand back to touch the back of her neck, nearly two and a half feet of hair completely gone. Sam missed it, as odd, and uncomfortable as the thought made him. “You’re working a case on your own, okay, I get that, but why?”

“I don’t do boss fights,” CJ quipped, rolling her eyes as she leaned up against a locker in the hallway, “I’m damage control. Sideline support. I knew you’d be here, so I figured I would bunker down and help before you came. F-Y-I? It’s a ghost possession.”

“Ghost possession,” Sam licked his lips, closing his eyes after a moment before he’d conceded with a quick conceding nod. “Alright, what do you know?”

“Everything. Toodles.” She turned on her heel then, moving to walk in the opposite direction, but his arm had caught her shoulder, and he was dragging her back, before slamming her into the tin of the lockers, his eyes narrowed. “CJ, don’t play around. Kids are getting hurt here.”

She blinked at him slowly, glancing up to see his forearm above her, caging her in, and his other hand gripped tight around an EMF meter. 

_ Why are my hormones acting up  _ **_now_ ** _ of all times..? _

She raised an eyebrow, accent sharp, “As lovely as a schoolgirl fantasy with you would be, I am in no mood to play around today. Remove your arm so I may return to my cover.”

“Stop talking like that,” he huffed, leaning closer as he examined the dead silent halls, and sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head until his bangs had brushed against her forehead. “CJ.. please, tell me what you know.”

_ I wonder.. Those lips..  _

“Bad memories?” she quirked up a brow, seeing his troubled eyes and giving him a slow, understanding look. “I know about Wyatt, and Berry, and Dirk. The ghost isn’t Berry.”

“What?”

_ Did he drink from her skin last, or use the container..? _

“Samuel,” she tilted her head, then, leaning up on her tiptoes and bringing her arm up to wrap behind his neck. “Shut up.”

Their lips met smoothly, and she was almost immediatley slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t protest. His arms were better described as snakes and fire as they wound around her waist, crushing her to his body as he tilted his head to the side, trying to taste her deeper, trying to feel more of her skin as he pressed her tightly into the lockers.

_ Huh.. _

_ So it  _ **_does_ ** _ taste like iron and cyanide... _

And when she pulled back, out of breath, her eyes closed, and a twist of her lips in a smile that was far from happy, he knew something was wrong.

“You taste like demon blood.”

He felt the fragile, blissful state of her lips, tongue, teeth and warmth surrounding him shatter like a wall of shaky glass, his breath coming in short, panting bursts as she lifted up a hand and scrubbed furiously at her lips as she tried wiping the taste of him away. 

“Like.. copper and rust, mixed with heroin.”

“CJ..” he whispered.

“I’m not judging you,” she huffed running a hand through her hair, and stopping when it reached the end of it’s length, “I just.. The taste throws me off. Makes me think of Ruby.. I get..  _ Pissed _ .. When I remember that she’s with you..” 

His hand lifted up to ghost behind the back of her now bare neck, his tri-toned eyes trailing slowly over her face as she kept her head to the side. _She wouldn’t even look at him_.

“CJ,” her name was a whisper on his lips, and her body had shuddered at the sound, before she had shot him a glare, and stepped away. 

“Excuse me, I need to check on Tyler.”

“CJ, wait,” he murmured, keeping a hold of her wrist as she stopped, facing the nurse’s doorway and ducking her head. “We can’t.. We can’t just pretend that didn’t  _ happen _ ..”

“Watch me.”

“CJ,” his arms were around her a second time, and he buried his nose in the familiar, fruity scent of her hair, closing his eyes as he pressed her back into his chest, cradling her tightly. She didn’t move to fight it. “CJ, why did you walk out of Iowa? It’s been a week.. You didn’t answer our calls.. Bobby’s worried..”

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ bring Bobby into this-! You wanna know why-? This is because Dean, and  _ you _ ,” she emphasized slowly, lifting her hands to pry at his monster paws so he would let her stumble out of his embrace, giving him a stern, nostril-flared look of rage. “-need to learn that I am neither a practiced psychic, nor am I a saint. I  _ told _ you, I only help when it’s needed, when it’s life-or-death important. I practice magic, so what-?! Dean needs to get over that. And  _ you- _ !” she emphasized this with a poke to his chest, and he resisted the urge to step back when she got right up to his personal space, hazel eyes glowing with angry fire. “-need to learn that I’m not a fucking Lilith-detector-! I’ve been putting up with both of your attitudes for  _ months _ now, and frankly,  _ I can’t take it _ -! So if I needed a fucking vacation, you can bet your ass I was taking a fucking vacation. It’s not Berry. Save yourself, and me, the backache.”

She let out a breath, then, inhaling slowly, before letting it, and her anger, fizzle out. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Sam. I’m strung thin with nightmares and gathering important artifacts, making sure things stay as they should be, and trying to handle the biggest, unnecessary baddies so you don’t need to face anything less than an actual bossfight.”

“CJ-”

“Will you just stop, Sam-! Stop saying my name as if it says everything-! If you can give me one,  _ good  _ reason why I should get back into that stupid Impala,  _ maybe _ and that is a BIG  _ maybe _ , I will consider going along with you guys again.”

“Because we need you-!”

The silence was deafening, and both young adults stood in it’s lapse as they held strong, severe eye contact, neither backing down, and neither glancing away. There was a lot said in each pair of eyes, hazel screaming for understanding, for space, and authenticity. Muddy blue-yellow filled with determination, desperation, and sorrow.

Neither seemed ready to talk yet, so when the door had opened, and the messy blonde hair of the fifty-something woman opened the door, she looked between the two with confusion. 

“Eleanor, Tyler is asking for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Jefferson,” CJ nodded politely, smiling at the concern the woman showed before giving her a slight, reassuring smile, “I’m just reconnecting with an old pal of mine. We were neighbors back when I lived in Kingsbury for middle school. He looks like a bear but he’s harmless, really..”

The woman relaxed then, giving the two a smile and a chuckle, “From the yelling I almost thought you were fighting.”

“Just trying to pinpoint who exactly was the neighborhood title cricket championship. I  _ clearly _ beat him on several plus occasions.”

“Last I checked, it was  _ me _ who had to console you with icecream over your loss to James Paddington and his jerky little brother after you placed fourth,” Sam played along with ease, and CJ shot him a slight, good natured grin before rolling her eyes, and turning back to the woman with a pout on her face, “There-! You can  _ clearly _ see how delusional all of the cleaning products have made him.”

“Delusional?” He raised an eyebrow, “I’m not the one who ran into a car-firm door after I first started to ride a trike.”

“You little, lying prat-!” CJ flared up playfully, “Shall I go into detail the events of your bush-hopping escapades with Richard Newport and his lackeys? University kids, at that-!”

“That was  _ one _ time, Eleanor-!”

“It’s Ella, you barbarian-! You know how much I despise my name-!”

“Eleanor-Eleanor-Eleanor-!”

“I’ll Eleanor your knickers if you mock be again, you brute-!”

The nurse was clutching the side of the door at this point as she choked on laughter, the two adults in the hallway breathing silent sighs of relief as she shook her head, and mimed going back to her desk with tears in her eyes. 

CJ breathed heavily after their improvised spat, and gave him a strong, silent warning look before plucking out her phone, waving it for him to see, and turning to go back inside. “Tyler-! You’re awake-! Shouldn’t you be resting-?”

“I’m fine, now,” Sam heard the boy’s voice from there, and a frown pinched his lips as CJ mostly shut the door, but still kept it partially open as she slipped inside. “Ella, right?”

“Right,” she confirmed, the tap of her shoes the only sound before there was a lot of sheet shuffling noises. “Hang on just a.. There-! No one likes a lumpy pillow-!”

“I.. like your accent..” He heard her giggle, and another shuffle before it was followed by the squeak of a cheap waiting chair. “I like yours as well.”

“Uhm.. Ella?” 

“Yes, Tyler?”

“Are you.. Going to the winter formal with anyone?”

Did that kid seriously just ask CJ out to a  _ highschool dance _ ..?!

He didn’t know if he was shocked, pissed, or a mixture of both. Probably the latter.

“I didn’t plan to attend at all. The requirements don’t really suit my fancy, it seems to me that American girls are all to wear dresses.”

“You don’t like dresses?”

“Not at all, they’re very.. Open.. it’s uncomfortable, especially in such chilly weather. Skirts are for good first impressions, I hoped to become well acquainted with my peers and professors before I was more comfortable.”

“Would you.. Wear a suit?”

“Well, provided I had a decent tie, yes.. I’m sorry, I’m not really understanding where you’re going with this..”

“Do you want to go with me-? To the formal, I mean.”

_ Yes he was.. _

“But.. didn’t.. We’ve just now met..?”

_ And CJ was a brick wall.. Not sure if he was surprised.. _

* * *

 

***Silently holding Captain America shield to dodge explosion of comments at the last scene***


	68. Chapter 68

“I’m going to murder the both of you if I wind up seeing Tyler out here,” CJ hissed, adjusting the spike track one final time before trudging her feet along the rocky path. Dean, on the other side of the trap, furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over at her, a grimace on his lips as his eyes narrowed. “Who’s Tyler?”

“Her Winter-Formal Date,” Sam quipped in a lighter voice. He wasn’t in any pain, seeing as CJ had jumped into the fray right when Dean’s dubbed “Hello-Kitty” tried to stab him. She wound up with a blade shoved straight through her hand, but she hadn’t reacted much more than gripping the girl’s hair while Sam poured salt in her mouth. 

Dean had taken one look at the wound and had pushed all thoughts of their fight on the back burner, hurrying to get it out for her and wrapping it with his bandana. It wouldn’t bleed for very long before it healed, but any blood at all was enough for concern.

“Winter-Formal,” Dean repeated, flicking his eyes back to the girl in surprise, and disbelief, “You’re going to the “Winter-Formal”?”

“No, I’m not,” she grouched, ducking her head down as her ears burned, “And he’s a jerk. Shut up.”

“What was with the bandage on your cheek earlier today, by the way?” Dean asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow when she looked away, then groaned, tossing her head back with a growl. “Fucking catfight.. Tyler’s ex pulled me into the locker room with three of her bitchletts and tried to claw my eyes out. Needless to say, with a sprained ankle, fractured wrist and dislocated shoulder, pretty sure she’s not wearing stilettos or Armani anytime soon.”

“You got into a cat fight?” Dean scoffed, and when her expression didn’t change, he laughed under his breath, “Seriously?”

“Hair pulling, bitch slapping, the whole nine yards..”

“Holy shit,” Dean murmured.

“I still work out, Dean,” CJ grimaced, shooting him a grimace when he’d stared at her with respect in his eyes, “I could bench-press  _ you _ if I really felt like it these days..”

“I’d pay to see that,” Sam chuckled. 

“Let’s just set up for that damned bus,” CJ groaned, throwing her head back with a loud, jaw-popping yawn, “Fuck me.. I’ve actually been trying to  _ sleep _ these nights..”

“How’s that going for you..?” 

She was more surprised with the fact that Dean’s tone had been hesitant than she had been with the question having come from him. “Fine, I guess.. No worse than usual.. It’s just a repeating cycle.. I get a couple cases a night, now.. I’m.. actually seeing more.. Which is.. Really weird..”

“Weird, how?” Sam asked swiftly, prinching his lips together when she went silent, then stopped at the Impala, a hand going to rest on Baby’s trunk lid with a soft, reverent look. “Like.. I’m seeing you in diners between cases.. And brushing your  _ teeth _ .. When before, when I saw those scenes.. It was cut-and-dry, just the case, with discussion  _ about _ the case, or other issues, on the side.. But now.. It’s like.. I can see myself  _ there _ .. And it’s  _ weird _ , because.. It never worked like that before.. It’s like I’m.. In my own body.. But I’m just..  _ Watching _ .. And it sucks-!”

“Breathe, CJ,” Dean whispered. The brunette sucked in a deep breath at his words, letting it out slowly before she shook her head. “Okay, yeah, I’m fine. I’m cool.”

“Breathe more, get some oxygen to that brain of yours,” Dean chuckled. She shot him a good-natured glare, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying..”

“Jackasses,” she grumbled, tucking her head into her arms with a sigh, resting against Baby with a soft moan. She was still a bit warm. “Mmm.. I missed you, too, Baby.. Still won’t sit in you, though, sorry..”

Sam cleared his throat, cutting her off from her gentle, loving motions of her free hand tracing sweet patterns into the Impala’s smooth black roof. “You, uh.. You need a minute there, CJ?”

“Shhh.. Moose.. I’m appreciating..”

“Let her be, Sammy.. Baby  _ is _ pretty hard to leave..”

“Hush Squirrel.. You’re the reason I’m not sitting there.”

“Wait a minute- why am I Squirrel?” Dean demanded.

“You’ll find out in a couple years,” she grumbled, pressing her cheek to the car and closing her eyes. She had sent a few lengthy texts to Gabe before she’d been coerced into the boy’s final leg of the hunt. “What time is it..?”

“About.. Ten o’clock.” Sam mumbled, flipping out his phone, before tucking it back into his pocket, “Nine fifty-two.”

“Great,” she huffed, peeling herself off of the car and standing straight again as she walked over to her duffel, pulling out the familiar purple headphones and a compact Ipod.

Dean straightened up at the sight of the headphones, his brother doing the same as she pulled them over her ears and sat her butt on the concrete. After a while of scrolling, and checking the time, she seemed to stop, pick a song, and set the IPod on her knee, straightening her back and closing her eyes as she breathed in and out, slow and steady.

They waited in bated silence as she sat still, taking deep, slow breaths in and out, but never making a real sound. Several minutes later, she seemed to decompress, lifting her hands to pull the device around her neck, and lean back against Baby’s bumper with a soft hum. “Another night closer.. Just a few more months..”

“Until what?”

“Well, for one, my birthday,” She smiled, giving them both a good-natured grin before sitting back again, “For two, would be a much-needed trip to the bahamas.. Someplace sandy and fucking  _ warm _ .. Everything is so  _ cold _ everywhere..”

“Are you cold?” Sam mumbled, stepping back sharply when she had shot him a look, but flinching when a big ball of leather was hurdled at her head, covering a good portion of her torso enough that she had to scramble to pull it off and shoot a confused, and accusing look toward the elder Winchester now leisurely stretching his bare arms. 

“What?” Dean asked.

“Your jacket,” she deadpanned, holding out the item of clothing in one hand, between two fingers, as if she were afraid to really be near it. “Why?”

“You’re cold, aren’t you?”

“I’m wearing a hoodie and a parka, I don’t need another layer.”

“Are you cold? Answer honestly.”

“Yes, I’m cold, but that doesn’t mean you need to-”

“Put it on.”

“Dean, I’m not gonna wear your-”

“CJ.”

She shut up, and his eyes, twin pools of evergreen, drilled into her own meek, hazel ones as he folded his arms across his chest. “Just put it on.”

She waited a few, long seconds after he’d speared her with the look of a concerned parent before she shrugged the garment on over her fitted green parka. She now had five layers on.

And she smelled like Dean.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing..

* * *

“You did a kung-fu display in front of a bunch of highschool boys who think you’re a mousy senior,” Dean was openly laughing at the frazzled brunette as she seethed, brooding as she buried herself in his jacket with grumbles of complaint, “Did you honestly expect them not to swarm you asking about it?”

“I borrowed your excuse,” she frowned, biting her lip as she breathed in the scent of whiskey, bar smoke, cologne and man musk..

It was surprisingly nice..

“21 Jump street,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head as they moseyed toward the Impala a final time. “Yeah, that’s something I would’ve done..”

It was quiet for a moment, and Sam waited for her to slide into the center of the front bench before he slid in himself. All of the tension that had been pushed aside seemed to slam back around them in the very moment Dean had started coasting down the road. The silence was suddenly deafening, and CJ had to buck up herself if she ever wanted it resolved.

It was killing them just as much as it was killing her.

“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for casting a spell on you without your permission, and I know you have a very justifiable reason to hate witches, warlocks and all of that nasty smelling crap.. And I get it. You think, with enough juice, I’m going to be trying darker stuff. And I’ll get stuck. I’ll.. want more.. I’ll bite off more than I can chew.. But, Dean.. this.. Everything I’m doing with you boys.. It’s far from falling out of my mouth at this point, it’s piling up on the floor.. I want to be prepared.. For you and Sam.. for the people you will eventually meet.. I.. don’t want them to die, because if they do.. It hits you hard.. You boys have lost enough, don’t you think?”

“Comes with the job description.”

She waited, and waited, and waited some more, and it wasn’t until they had driven her back to their motel, that Sam had excused himself in silence for a shower, and Dean had cracked open two beers, one for himself, and one for her, before he actually started talking again.

“I don’t.. Do this, the talking, this.. I don’t. Sam and I, our heart to hearts, before you came along, were fists to face. We’d make up over ice packs and cold ones. But.. with you, I need to piece together exactly what I mean to say, and say exactly what I’m thinking, or you get the wrong idea. And when you get the wrong idea, or if you miss my point entirely, that becomes its own set of problems..”

She didn’t say a word as he worked through his words, clipping sentences together in an effort to completely clear the palette overflowing in his head. “I had a week to think about it, and I wind up, every morning, wondering why I have two pillows, why the chair is empty, or why I crack two beers when Sam already has one. I tried, you can’t blame me, to pretend that the break you gave us was what we needed. But, CJ.. it’s not. It’s really not. I don’t need you gone, because when you’re gone, I stress out about if you’re eating enough, if you’re sleeping enough, if you’re passed out in a ditch or in an alley with a knife at your throat and honestly it scares me more to know that while me and Sam echo our injuries onto you like some sick cosmic joke, we never really will know if you get hurt unless you actually tell us. And I think what drives me batty about the whole witch thing, is that I don’t want you mixing yourself into something so sticky you can’t shrug out of it like you do with everything else. 

“I don’t want you hurt CJ, you’re.. You’re  _ something _ else and it drives me absolutely insane trying to give you a name or a title to fit you into a certain mold, but if you take all the characteristics at the end of the day and throw them together, you never really  _ did _ fit into any other mold in the first place, did you? ..I had to hear from Sam that you had taken Cleo for a drive and not come back. Do you know what my first thought had been..? ‘Finally. She finally gave up on this’.. You’re not a hunter, CJ, but you’re not a civilian. You’re not a witch, and you’re not just some knowledge Guru either. You’re CJ Ambrosia freakin’ Jordan. And your  _ ours _ .”

“I’m yours? Your’s and Sam’s?” she repeated, slow and factual as she tried to piece together his point. 

“And Bobby’s,” he scoffed, “God knows that man thinks of you like a daughter. He really is worried, no phone call or text is gonna fix that.”

“I planned to be back by Christmas.. Figured I’d be calm by then.”

“Well,” he sighed, tipping back the rest of his beer and leaning forward to set the empty bottle onto the wooden coffee table with a dull thunk. “That’s enough chick-flick for the night. I’ve said my piece. Anything you want to add?”

“I want to ask you something,” she asked softly, seeing the way his shoulder’s coiled before she drew her legs up indian-style on the chair, setting her nearly full beer beside Dean’s empty one and pressing her hands into the cradle her lap made as she adjusted to sit more comfortably in her seat. “You know I get hurt when you hurt, and you’ve seen me super-heal, right in front of your face. You know, by that logic, I can’t die, and you know that before I went to your.. Grave.. I was in a psychiatric hospital.. I told you, in a roundabout way, that I was, and still am, suicidal. At least to a degree. Less so, nowadays, because of.. Well,  _ you guys _ .. Without you being real, I’m pretty sure I’d still be throwing myself off of buildings and jumping in front of cars.”

“Yeah, no more of that..”

“Hey, last building I fell from was the Anna fiasco.”

“And before that?”

“It was the psych ward, I was shocked they even  _ had _ an accessible roof.”

“..Fair enough.. What’s your point.”

“Why am I here, Dean? I’m yours, yours and Sam’s and Bobbys, but it's different. Isn’t it? Bobby.. Tolerates me- don’t make that face, I won’t say like.. Like is a strong word.. I don’t do self-praise.. Sam.. is.. Weird about our connection enough that even  _ I _ don’t know which way is up with him anymore.. And you.. I’m trying to actually figure that out.. First, you tried to be a threat, thinking I was dangerous, and, therefore, more a threat to you and Sam. Then it was a little sister, which, after careful consideration, cannot be the case. Little sisters don’t.. Get this kind of treatment.. You’re overbearing, to the point of nearly smothering me, and sometimes I want to smack you and your brother silly for your awful suggestions, but.. It always comes down to  _ something _ , doesn’t it? I hate that word.  _ Something _ . Like it’s just.. There, but it’s too mushed-up and blurry and battered to make out an actual word, and we have to settle for what’s leftover. Just..  _ Something _ . It fits, and at the same time, its an insult, that does the bond no near level of justice.. So, without using vague, annoying words, what would you call our bond? I want your honest opinion, from a third-person perspective. If you were some random dude at a bar, looking at the three of us, you Sam and me, from a distance, how would classify us?”

“That’s more than one question,” he grunted, swiping her beer and taking a sip when he only received a pointed look. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll bite. When.. I look at you and Sam.. from an outsider’s perspective.. It’s like looking at two alpha dogs trying to either fight or screw.”

“Seriously?”

“Let me finish.”

“Continue, oh eloquent one..”

“Right..” he took another sip, and sighed as he licked at his bottom lip, “When I see you and Bobby.. I see a father and his daughter, pretty normal, I suppose, minus, you know, the Paula Deen shtick.” 

“Guilty.” 

“Shaddap.” 

“Jeez, okay,  _ fine _ .”

“And lastly.. When look at you and  _ me _ ..” he went quiet for a moment, his words trailing off as he took in the dark, thin bags beneath her eyes, the mess of her now short, choppy brown hair, the smudge of lipgloss along her bottom lip and the mess of her flannel and jeans as she sat tucked in her chair.

“I see.. A woman, with.. Too many titles.. And too many scars under her skin.. I see her pushing and pushing for other people to be happy.. To be fed, and warm and sleep enough that they’re not complete zombies the next day.. I see her when she smiles, for real, and when she smiles to hide her anxiety.. I see when she cries, it’s because everything comes seizing up against her all at once, and when she sits in silence its because she has the entire world on her mind.. I see a girl who likes fruit, and music, who wears flannel and jeans because she wants to ‘fit in with the crowd’.. She takes knifes for her boys, and bullets for her family.. And at the end of the day, the last thing she thinks about isn’t if she had a good day, it was if her boys made it through another sunset. If they had smiled that day. What they want to eat, if they’ll have clothes to be washed, or if their things were packed. I see.. A woman I can’t spend a week without, unless I want my mind to be crawling the walls with worry.”

“So,” she raised her eyebrows slowly, tilting her head at his silence and giving him a slow, probing stare, “Are we.. is this it?”

“Is what it...?”

“Are we finally understanding each other?”

“Well, I would  _ hope  _ so. That’s more talking than I’ve done with Sam in years..”

“Yeesh, sorry to strain your voice,  _ grandma _ ..”

“Shut up..”

“So..”

“So..?”

“..Want me to show you my new favorite show..? You really like it later.. Like,  _ obsessed _ , like it, later on..”

“..What show?”

“Dr Sexy MD.”

“No.”

“Dean,  _ try it _ . One episode. That’s all I ask.”

“It’s a soap opera.”

“It’s awesome. Have you  _ seen _ some of the injuries that go through that place?”

“I’ve  _ had _ injuries that are worse than what go through that place.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“...Right.”

“So, I’ll get the candy?”

“...Whatever. Hurry up.”

“Booyah-!”

* * *

When Sam exit the bathroom, having showered, shaved, and taken the time to look over any lingering bruises or scars, he deemed the relative silence of the main room to be somewhat safe to return to. Clad in a pair of sweatpants and an old purple t-shirt, he poked his head out of the bathroom to take a once-over of the room, just to be certain he didn’t burst any landmines. When the only sight he was greeted with was Dean and CJ on the couch, practically thigh-to-thigh and munching on a bowl of buttery popcorn as they watched the tv, he had to double-take at the screen and reevaluate his brother’s focussed, engrossed stare with the hospital characters.

He thought over clearing his throat, wondering if that was the right way to go, before he brushed the thought aside, and moved to walk behind the couch, the towel around his neck and his bare feet pressing into the carpet as he silently slipped behind the worn, ratty furniture to sit beside CJ. She flicked her eyes up and over to him, seeing as he was on her right, with Dean on her left, before she rolled her eyes, shrugged, and offered him the bowl. 

He glanced down quickly after he’d taken a handful, flicking his eyebrows up in surprise at the sight of his brother’s arm around her waist. Seeing his concern, she raised her own eyebrows in challenge, before reaching out, and taking his forearm, pulling it up and draping it across her shoulders so his big, warm hand dangled over her left shoulder like a heating pad.

He was still steaming from the shower, and the boys combined heat felt nearly cosmic. 

Three episodes of Dr Sexy MD, four bags of popcorn, two packets of M&Ms and two beers later, the trio retired for the night, Dean’s disgruntled expression at having the short marathon end hidden quickly when his brother cleared his throat. CJ was curled up against the elder Winchester like a giant stuffed bear, her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms around his waist. She’d brought her legs up mid-second episode, and Sam had absently rubbed out the knots in her calf muscles as they lied sprawled across his lap.

She’d fallen asleep.

Judging my the soft smile on her lips, it didn’t look like waking her up would be a good thing..

Sam raised an eyebrow when Dean rolled his eyes, the elder brother easing his arms beneath the girl before lifting her gently, princess-style, moving to lie her out along his bed. It took a lot of maneuvering on his part, but he managed to get her to lie down, though she still clung to his jacket like an infant. And when he finally collapsed to the mattress, she had curled up to him like a cold cat, tucking herself into his side and seaking his warmth.

She was freezing.

Sam didn’t say a word about her sleeping in the bed, so neither did he, and when they left the next morning with the intention of finding a new case, nothing else was said about it, either.


	69. Siren's Song

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Dean was roused awake by the passing of a large, blaring vehicle, his eyes blinking open quickly as he tried to look around. Further in the room, he could hear soft murmuring. _Sam_. His brain supplied the name with no issue, but when he tried to shift his body, he felt a heavy weight draped along him from beneath the blanket.

_And CJ.._

“No storms, no- no bad crops. Nothing.”

Dean wriggled a bit, stilling when he felt hot, heavy breath on his chest, before the body relaxed again, and he could turn his head and shoulders enough to face the open bathroom door. Sam was pacing, a phone held up to his ear as he whispered into the device with a frustrated expression. Dean blinked quickly, trying to piece together what was going on. _Ruby.. of course._

“Yeah. I will keep looking, you keep looking, too. Okay?”

Seeing his brother done with the call, he hurried to press himself silently back under the blanket, jumping a bit when he caught sight of two, cracked hazel eyes glaring at him from beneath the giant comforter. He closed his eyes, his arm around her waist, heavy and hot beneath her weight, pressed her tighter to his side, and she seemed to get the message when she tucked back into the crease of his arm and body with a soft sigh.

“Alright. Talk soon.” Sam hung up the phone with a click, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans as he exit the bathroom. He flicked his eyes toward the bed nearest to the door, where Dean lied sprawled on the sheets, an extended, long lump beneath the entire blanket that ran parallel to his body. _CJ_...

Her nights of sleeping upside down in chairs seemed to have been behind her, as the last week had been nothing but her plopping onto one of the brother’s beds and completely passing out. She’s said something about the kick-back getting stronger in the visions, the after-effects lasting longer when she woke up..

Testimony of that was the small, hand-shaped bruises Sam found on his back the night he woke up to CJ crushing herself to his chest, tears in her eyes and her body racking with silent sobs. It had taken both him, and Dean hours to get her to wake up and calm down, but neither had asked.

If she wanted to help, or talk, she would offer. This was getting to the point that neither brother knew if they were prepared for it.

Sam sighed, running his hand over the fading marks on his waist before he walked over to the bed, giving his brother a firm, but consciously careful shake.

“Hey,” he called, moving his hand to the lump and doing the same. The muscle he’d grabbed was a bit notably larger, but he still was careful in his shaking. “Come on. Up and at ‘em, kiddo.”

Dean went through the motions of pretending to wake up, the body beside him giving an instantaneous groan as the muscle beneath Sam’s hand shifted, and burrowed deeper beneath the blanket.

“Ugh.. Don’t grab me there..”

Sam pulled back his hand as if it had been zapped, flexing his fingers a bit as he moved to sit on his bed. “Sorry.. Kind of hard to tell where you are under all of that..”

“I’m warm. Go away or I’ll bite you..”

“Alright, princess,” Dean sighed, forcibly pulling the blanket off of her and using his hostage arm to curl beneath her shoulders and haul her up toward the pillows. She glared at him when she surfaced, sending a similar look at Sam before she turned over and face-planted into the pillows directly. “Ugh.. _Fuck me_.. I fucking cannot _deal_ with the sun today..”

“You’re up early,” Dean sniffed, completely sitting up in bed and ignoring the way CJ had maneuvered his forearm as her neck brace. _Again_. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I was in the can,” Sam shrugged. CJ grunted, both boys jumping a bit as she shot out of the bed and rolled completely off of it with a strangled noise. “Ah- fuck-!”

Dean was diving for the end of the bed, but she had hit the floor too soon, raising a hand and waving him off from her sprawl as she made a low, keening noise. “UUuhhhhhh.. Stop. Just.. Let me have a minute.. Fucking.. _Oww_..” She thumped her head on the floor, and got to her feet with a shudder, rubbing her eyes with the end of her flannel sleeves and sending Sam a glare when he was caught eyeing her bare legs. Or more, the tattoos on her thighs. Feathers, wings, several colors of which bled into her skin, with Enochian phrases and symbols they didn’t know.

“New ink?” he asked amiably, seeing her look as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah. So, job? Bedford, Iowa?” he blinked slowly at her before reaching a hand back, and pulling up a newspaper with a slow, defeated sigh. “Yeah.”

“Great,” she sniffed, lifting a hand to push back her bangs before they fell into place again, and she trudged toward her back. “Good, give Dean the run-down. I’ll call Bobby to give him an update and get breakfast. Usual coffees?”

“Yes, please,” Dean sighed, rolling himself up off of the bed and moving to grab his pants.

“Thanks CJ,” Sam nodded, watching the girl wave her hand in dismissal and leave the room after grabbing her purse. His lips pinched together tightly, and he furrowed his eyebrows at Dean before he tilted his head back, “Do you think we maybe should have told her she looks like she’s naked under that..?”

“She’s wearing shorts,” Dean grunted, running a hand down his face before he shook his head, “Three, two, one-”

The door opened swiftly, and CJ marched up in silence toward her bag before she withdrew a pair of big, grey sweatpants. She pulled them up over her shorts, pulled her slip-ons back on, and walked out the door without a word. Sam scoffed, giving his brother a side-smile. “You’re picking up CJ’s timing thing..”

“No, I’m not.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “Because I saw you counting down the seconds it would take for her to snap at a barfly the other night..”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, bunching up the covers before tossing them away and sighing, “Come on. Gimme the case details already. CJ’s already briefed.” “Judging by her exit, more than briefed,” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes before he opened the paper again, and read off the headline. “Guy beat his wife’s brains out with a meat tenderizer.”

“Yikes,” Dean grumbled, taking the paper with narrow eyes.

“And get this,” Sam continued, “Third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of them, all happily married.”

“Hah, sounds like “Ozzie and Harriet”,” Dean sniffed.

“More like the Shining,” Sam smirked.

“Alright,” Dean sighed, tossing the paper to the side of the bed CJ had vacated, her spot already starting to grow cold, “I guess we better go have a look.”

* * *

“Why does the PD keep sending you guys, I already said I don’t want a lawyer.”

“They’re lining up the firing squad,” Dean gruffed, sitting across the table from the man in a crisp orange jumpsuit and a death-row look in his eyes.

“I’m pleading guilty,” the man murmured, lifting his eyes from the table to pierce the green-eyed man with a sullen stare.

“Alright, look,” Dean leveled with him calmly, Sam silent at his side as he gestured subtly with his entwined fingers on top of the table. “You don’t want us representing you, that’s fine. In fact, it’s probably not a bad idea, between you and me.” Sam cleared his throat, and Dean stopped, steeling himself back up before getting back into character. “We just want to understand what happened.. That’s all.” The man was silent, staring at his handcuffed wrists.

“Mr Benson,” Sam implored, his tone nearly as gruff as his brother’s. The man looked up slowly, meeting the tallest males eyes. “Please,” Sam nodded.

“What happened was..” Benson had to stop for a moment, his lips tracing invisible words as he tried to see past the blaring, led light shining above the table. “..I killed my wife. And you want to know why? ..Because she made plans.. Without asking me..”

“Now, when it happened, how did you feel? Disoriented? Out of control?” Sam offered after a pause.

“Like something possessed you to do it?” Dean prodded further.

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” Benson shook his head, “I was crystal clear.”

“Then why did you do it?” Dean scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Benson murmured, his voice getting choked as he looked at the handcuffs again. What had he done..? “I loved her. We were _happy_.”

Sam and Dean shared a look, and the younger gave a subtle nod. Dean nodded back, moving to open his briefcase with an expensive click. One of CJ’s many adjustments to their wardrobes. He pulled out a piece of paper, a billing statement, and slid it across the table for the man to see. “Nine G’s.. that’s a hefty bill..”

“Where did you get that?” Benson demanded sullenly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean quipped, “We have it. See certain charges, ones you don’t want the missus to know- they show up under shady names like M&C entertainment.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about. “

“Oh, you’re dropping plastic at a nude bar, for instance.” Dean played along, but his eyes were hard.

“We just.. Want to know the truth, Mr Benson,” Sam cut in before his brother could. He knew his brother hated these types of people.

The man sighed, slowly, and built up the rest of his shrivelled guts as he lowered his eyes to the table, “Her name was.. Jasmine..”

“She was a stripper?” Sam confirmed.

“Dude, her name was Jasmine,” Dean chuckled dryly.

“One of CJ’s cousins is named Jasmine,” Sam raised an eyebrow, and the amused expression on Dean’s fade flickered to shock, then embarrassed, and finally brushing it off as if he never made the comment.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Benson spoke up again, seeing the men’s lull and pleading his case, for the first time, in honesty. “I-I don’t like to go to strip bars. My buddy, was having a bachelor party, and.. There she was..”

“Jasmine?” Sam clarified.

“She came right up to me,” the purest sense of euphoria seemed to come over the man as he talked about the supposed striper, his eyes lighter than they had been, his lips nearly smiling, “And.. I-I don’t know, s-she was just.. Perfect. Everything that I wanted.”

“Well, you pay enough,” Dean groused, sullen and almost completely cut off as his eyes stayed like green marble, “Anyone will be anything.”

“It wasn’t about the money,” Benson was quick to disagree, and almost protective, possessive light in his eyes that had both boys straightening up in their seats. “It wasn’t even about the sex, it was.. I don’t know. I.. I don’t know what it was..” Benson sounded so lost.. So helpless, that for a moment Dean could see himself in that place, having a different conversation with a beer to his lips and a woman with newly short brown hair curled up in a motel armchair.

“It’s hard to explain,” Benson whispered.

“And.. you’re wife found out?” Sam murmured. He had similar thoughts to Dean, but he was fully functional to work on the case, here and now.

“No, she never had a clue,” Benson shook his head.

“Then why’d you kill her?” Sam couldn’t connect the dots.

“...For Jasmine.” he spoke slowly, gradually gaining for confidence as he continued, firmly. “She said we would be together forever, if- if only J-.. if _Vikki_ was..”

“ _Muerte_ ,” Dean scoffed.

“Afterwords,” Benson continued solemnly, “Me and Jasmine were supposed to meet, and she never showed. I don’t know where she lives. I don’t know her last name. I don’t even know her real first name.. I’m an idiot.”

“And you didn’t think to tell this to the cops?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“What for?” Benson gruffed, “The stripper didn’t do it. I did it. And I know what I deserve. Judge doesn’t give me the death sentence, I’ll just do it myself.”

_Oh boy.._

* * *

“How’d the talk go?” CJ asked idly, one foot waving in the air as she typed at her laptop, curled up in Baby and sprawled along the front bench seat. She really wasn’t going to be sitting back there until she had evidence that it was deep cleaned. 

Dean would be doing that at their next stop. As oddly nice as it was to have the small, warm person beside him on the road, he didn’t need the reminder of her anger towards the Anna fiasco to keep simmering. 

“He squealed like a pig,” Sam scoffed, tossing his briefcase to the backseat and maneuvering her stubborn behind to scoot so he could sit in his place while Dean took driver’s. “We’re heading out to get the toxicology report in a few minutes, Dean wants to get brunch or something other than the two muffins this morning after that.”

“I can’t blame him, they were pretty bad,” CJ sighed, closing her laptop and tilting her head toward Sam with a frown, “We should probably go in with him, Dean.. No offense, but..”

“Does something happen?” he sat up straighter, both boys flicking their eyes to her when she shook her head, “No.. but.. I don’t need to be stuck in a ten-by twelve office with Sam and Dr Goo-Goo-Eyes, alone..”

“Dr Goo-Goo-Eyes?” Dean repeated, a small smile playing on his lip sat his brother’s confused, lost look. Sam tried prodding. “Uhm.. Do I want to know..?”

“Not my place,” she shrugged, tucking her laptop in her bag before adjusting herself to get comfy, letting her head loll to the side until she was against Dean, and relaxing into the muscles there. “Mmm.. Do we get to go see strippers?”

“Do you  _ want _ to go see strippers?” Dean lifted his eyebrows, pulling Baby into reverse before driving down the street. He already had directions for the clinic.

“I still want to go hit up a bunny ranch,” she mumbled, feeling her body relax as Sam’s arm found its place at her shoulder and his fingers rubbed gently into the tense blades. “Hmm- Mm-!” she jerked a bit, feeling a pop, before letting a moan leave her lips, and her arm completely slacken, “Holy fuck, Sam, do that again..”

“Okay, off of me if you’re making those sounds,” Dean was gentle, but firm as he pressed her off, letting her loll back into Sam like a husk of goo. “There. Cling to Sam for a while.”

“Ugh.. but you’re  _ warm _ ..” she grumbled, doing as he said a few seconds later by turning her body and collapsing against the giant beside her. “Oohhh.. Sam, you’re warm, too.. Mm.. All my friends are space heaters.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam scoffed.


	70. Chapter 70

“Dr Goo-Goo-Eyes,” Dean chuckled, he and his brother leaving the office while CJ stared in silence at a vial of tainted blood sitting at the bottom of a clear evidence bag. “I could  _ smell _ the sexual tension coming off of her..”

“Ease up, Cowboy,” CJ groaned, gently guiding the sample into her inner coat pocket before giving the boys a similar look, “Go over your facts.”

Sam sighed, seeing the calm on her face and the teasing on Dean’s before he shook out his shaggy brown locks. “So Wylie and Snyder fessed up, then?”

“One emptied his IRA, the other, his kids college fund. All on the same thing.” Dean nodded, a bit of a frown on his lips as he lead CJ out of the building, using his arm to open the door while his brother gently pressed her forward by the small of her back. Her eyes were unfocused, and her thoughts seemed to be a mile away. 

“Live nude girls?” Sam offered.

“Club called the Honey Wagon,” Dean nodded, letting the door swing shut as he palmed his pocket and pulled out his keys.

“These guys have affairs, too, with a stripper also known as Jasmine?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes and No,” Dean shook his head, “This is where it gets interesting. Each guy hooked up with a different chick.”

“So, what, these girls all connected somehow?” Sam murmured.

“Well, they all described their stripper in the same way- The  _ exact  _ same way, perfect, and everything that they wanted.”

Sam scoffed, grimacing a bit as they neared the Impala. “Yeah, at least until dream barbie convinced them to murder their wives.”

“There’s that,” Dean nodded.

“You know, it’s almost like they were under some kind of love spell,” Sama grumbled. 

The laughter CJ gave to that comment had both of the boys stopping in their tracks. She braced herself against her knees, laughing for all she was worth as she kept herself from tipping over. “Oh Lollipops-!  _ Ahahahahaha- _ ! I can’t breathe.. Oh cripes.. Oh..  _ ohohohoo _ .. Sam.. please.. For the love of everything deep-fried and covered in chocolate..  _ Please _ be careful of the dangers of Vegas-!”

“I..” Dean started, then stopped, waiting for CJ to collect herself slowly as she rubbed the tears from beneath her eyes and shuddered with leftover giggles. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that..”

“Yeah, me neither,” the taller brunette mumbled.

“Anyway.. A love spell which would cause them to become totally psychotic..” Sam offered, opening the door so CJ could slide herself in, she was still giggling, mumbling something about ‘Becky’s dress’ or along those lines. 

“Absolutely,” Dean nodded firmly. Sam took a moment to take in his brother’s light eyes, and raised his own eyebrows in question, “You seem pretty cheery?”

“Strippers, Sammy,” Dean quipped, no further words really needed, but with his brother’s expression, apparently were. “ _ Strippers _ . We are on an  _ actual  _ case, involving strippers.  _ Finally _ .”

“I have the ones ready-!” CJ sang from her seat, Dean’s eyes getting even brighter as he started to laugh, slipping into the driver's seat, while Sam rolled his eyes heavenward, sent a quick prayer for patience, and slid in, himself.

They would get lunch, and hit the club later.

* * *

The music was loud, and blaring, and CJ was on the edge of her seat while Sam had an arm around her shoulder. Jackass wouldn’t let her go stake out a ‘shady-looking redhead’ in the corner earlier and she was pouting while Dean argued with the building manager. When Dean saw them, after the spat, he marched over, barely taking a passing glance at the strippers before he walked up to his brother, and the clearly unhappy woman at his arm.

“Any luck?” Sam asked, though he knew it was a bit pointless by Dean’s lackluster appeal in the surroundings and the grimace on his lips. 

“No, you?” Dean asked, above the music, both boys stepping out of the way as a woman in a shiny two-piece walked past in stilettos carrying a tray with drinks. 

“A little,” Sam admit, meeting his brother’s eye with a bit of annoyance. “I talked to Bobby, we officially have a theory, cemented by CJ’s input.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Siren,” Sam grunted.

“Like, Greek-myth, siren?” Dean looked unconvinced, flicking his eyes to CJ when she looked less than stellar about the leash around her shoulders. “Like “The Odyssey?”

Sam shot him a look of confusion, and Dean shrugged. “Hey, I read.”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam aquisit with a nod, “But the siren’s not actually a myth. It’s more of, uh.. beautiful creatures that prey on men. Entice them with their siren song.”

“Or in this case,” CJ piped up, shrugging out of Sam’s arm and going to Dean’s side so she could poke his nose, “Spit-contact with either gender for absolute control over a person’s interests.”

“Let me guess, “Welcome to the Jungle”?” Dean rolled his eyes, swiping her hand before encasing it with his own and holding it trapped absentmindedly, “No, no, Warrant’s “Cherry Pie”?”

CJ giggled at his side, shaking her head when he looked down at her reaction. “Sorry, I just had a mental picture of you singing that drunk at your wedding..”

“ _ Does _ he sing that, drunk, at his wedding?” Sam pestered, immediately curious, but Dean had wider eyes, and disbelief on his face. “I have a  _ wedding _ ..?”

“Ugh.. When you’re not a stubborn ass,” CJ quipped, shooting him a look as he took a step back, “The eye sex Sam has to endure for  _ years _ , man.. Silence.. Absolute silence..  _ And nothing comes of it-! _ It drives me _ insane-!  _ It drives  _ everyone _ insane-!”

“Can we please get back to the case?” Dean groaned.

“ _ Fine _ ,” CJ sniffed, folding her arms across her chest and making a move to walk toward the corner, but stopping at Sam’s warning look and plunking herself into the nearest stool. “No fun..”

“Siren’s lived on an island,” Sam started to explain once CJ had been sat down, “Sailors would chase them, completely ignoring the rocky shores and dash themselves to pieces.”

“Sounds like Adam and his buddies,” Dean quipped.

“Yeah, if you were a siren in ‘09,” Sam scoffed. “Looking to ruin a bunch of morons. Where would you set up?”

“So whatever floats the guy’s boat, that’s what these siren’s look like?”

“Yeah, you see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and they can kind of, like, cloak themselves.. You know, like an illusion..”

“So it could all be the same chick-? Morphing into different dream girls?” Dean sounded a bit annoyed, but CJ had piped up with a quick, “It  _ is _ the same chick.. Dude.. Person.. Thing.. Monster.. All the same monster..”

“How do we kill it?” Dean grimaced. 

“Bobby’s working on it,” Sam gave him a slight nod. “But even if we figure that out..”

“How the Hell are we gonna find it..? It could be anybody..”

“We wait,” CJ shrugged, “Wait long enough and it will fall right into your literal lap.”

“At what cost?” Sam asked then, his jaw tensing as the brothers saw her dazed, unfocused eyes. “How many bodies are going to drop?”

“Sam..” Dean warned suddenly, seeing his brother creeping into dangerous territory and shaking his head quickly before he reached down, and put a hand to CJ’s shoulder, “Any details, any at all will be helpful here..” She closed her eyes, seeing the sternness in his, and shook her head, “I don’t have his name, I don’t have his mom’s, I just know she’s sick and slowly dying.. The siren’s name is Belle.. But.. if I’m thinking back on actual time..” She drew a hand up to cover her eyes, feeling a pulsing behind her temple as he grit her teeth. “Oww.. O-Okay.. hasn’t done that.. Before..  _ Oww-! _ ..”

“CJ-CJ stop-!” Dean was quick to pull her hands away, running his fingers along her forehead and touching the pulsepoint, watching it beat erratically beneath the strobe lights, “Let’s get you back, and in bed. We can deal with this tomorrow- Stop it-!” he demanded again, seeing her hunker down, and shooting his brother a look before he pulled her up to her feet and pulled an arm beneath her arm, cradling her back and practically dragging her out of the room. “It’s probably the lights- Sam, get the car started. CJ- CJ are you listening to me? CJ-!”

* * *

_ CJ-! Sam, hurry up-! Open the door, come on-! _

Darkness swam behind her eyes, and she could feel her body being tugged eight ways from Tuesday. 

_ Stay with me, CJ- come on- don’t black out like this-! Open your eyes-! CJ, open your eyes-! _

Too many lights.. Too many sounds..

_ Dean, I think she’s having a stroke, we need to get her to a hospital- _

Hospital-? No.. she was warm.. Hospitals were cold, and sterile.. And smelled like  _ that _ place..

_ Her eyes are darting, Sam.. step on the gas, would you-?! _

_ I’m going as fast as I can-! _

_ CJ, listen here, we’re sitting in the back seat, I know you’re probably pissed, and if you can, slug me, okay? Right across the jaw. Hard as you can. I won’t even be mad about it.. _

She felt her fingers twitch, but that was the extent her limbs wanted to move. Why was she so numb..?

_ Come on… Come on-! CJ, wake up. Please-! _

_ Dean, check her pulse-! Make sure she’s breathing-! _

_ Just keep driving-! _

_ I am-! _

_ Well, go faster-! _

_ I’d rather not total the car before we get there-! _

Warm… cologne.. Dean..

Warm..

So warm..

So tired..

_ CJ don’t you dare pass out-! _


	71. Chapter 71

Dean looked down at the cellphone in his hands, CJ’s phone, the device having been going off non-stop for the first hour, and he’d finally had to set it to silent. Neither he nor his brother had changed from their suits and were sitting anxiously in the ER lobby as they waited for news. Sam’s pacing had been on his nerves for ten minutes now, but he could only anxiously tap his knee as he waited for his brother to calm. It had been two hours.

“Stiles, Murdock?”

Dean stood, and Sam was quick to speed-walk up to the nurse, who looked more than a little startled to have six-some feet of steaming moose getting into her personal space, followed by a shorter, but still incredibly tall man with no less muscle.

“That’s us,” Sam nodded. “How is she?”

“Miss Jordan..” she said the name slowly, after reading it off the file, adjusting her weight on her feet and clearing her throat as her nerves spiked. These men were  _ huge _ . “She should be fine, now. We’ve got her vitals stabilized, and she’s currently resting-”

“ _ Where the Hell am I-?! _ ”

“Or not..” Dean huffed, Sam already rushing past the nurse, despite her warning calls, while Dean showed her his FBI badge, and more carefully moved to cut through the smattering of people.

“Miss, you need to calm down-! I need an anesthesia-!”

“Miss, please-! Calm down-!”

“CJ-!”

The brunette halted her hold on the IV stand, lowering it slowly when Sam slid into the room, taking one look at her breathless, wild appearance and holding his hands up in a peaceful motion. “CJ-! It’s me-! It’s okay-!” Her eyes flickered across his face, and she turned her eyes to the blood smeared on her arm. She’d torn out the IV. Sam saw it, too, but needed her to focus. “You’re okay.. We’re here, me and Dean.. You’re fine..”

She slowly let her hands uncurl, and the metal staff hit the ground in a clatter, the girl falling right to her knees just as Dean got to the door. 

“Damnit.”

Sam was at her side in an instant, and he was using his sleeve to rub at the corner of her eyes, where smeared makeup had mixed with fresh tears. “Dammit, CJ,” he repeated, breathy as he tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her tighter. “Dammit it all.. You scared the Hell out of us..”

“My head hurts..” she groaned, pressing her face deeper into his suit and curling tighter to his chest, “I wanna leave.. It stinks here.. Bad..”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean shook his head, unmoving as she fisted her hands into his brother’s coat lapels, “You just had a damned stroke, you are not leaving this room..”

“It  _ stinks  _ here..” she whined, “Like death and antiseptic-! I’ll stay in bed, I swear-! Just lemme go back to the motel room-!”

“CJ..” Sam groaned, pressing his lips tightly to her forehead before pulling back, “You need to let them look over you if you want to leave.”

“Sam-”

“Dean, if she really can’t stand it here, we’ll handcuff her to the bed or something.”

A clear of a throat, and a familiar head of dark, messy hair filled in the door, the hunters straightening up a bit as Doctor Cara Roberts entered the room with a rap of her knuckles. “Didn’t think I’d have the pleasure to see you agents again so soon..”

“Dr Roberts,” Dean nodded his head in greeting, flashing his eyes to Sam, who had completely picked the small brunette up off of the floor and held her in his arms like a newborn. “Can’t say we weren’t thinking the same..”

“Your friend here had a very severe stroke,” the raven pointed out calmly, moving to get the clipboard from it’s place inside the door and read off of it directly, “It took.. Two hours, for her to become stable enough to stop seizing, and when she was calm, she was fine. This is.. Unheard of. When patients come out of these things, they’re physically affected, if not mentally affected, more. I’m honestly more shocked at the fact that she’s making complete sentences than hearing she’d brandished her IV.”

“She.. really hates hospitals,” Dean offered after a moment, giving her a pointed, pained smile when she turned her eyes to him, “She’d force her body to work right if it meant she got out of here sooner. Speaking of,  _ when  _ would she be allowed to leave?”

“Provided I get to see her vitals again and I’m not stabbed?” the doctor tilted her head, “Tomorrow morning, nine at the earliest, because of paperwork and visiting hours.”

“And for the FBI?” Dean smiled, holding up his badge with a pretty-boy smile. One CJ said could get him anything he damn-well pleased with any other woman but her. 

“..Eight, if you’re early,” Cara sighed, her eyebrows curling together as she watched Sam gently place the girl on the bed, and pulling up the hospital-issued blankets to cover everything but her nose up. “It’s policy not to let patients leave before first light.”

“Gotcha,” he nodded.

“Well,” she sighed, glancing pointedly at the fallen rack before looking toward the dazed woman clinging to tall, bulky brunette’s arm, “Can I check her over without threat of injury?”

“I’ll hold her down,” Sam offered a playful smile, but his hands were keeping a tight hold of CJ’s as she pressed the back of his hand to her icy face.

“Warm..” she mumbled. 

“I know,” Sam huffed, closing his eyes. “You’re cold. And when we get back, I’m buying you another blanket.”

“Make sure it’s soft.. But none of that stupid wool-crap.. It beads up in the wash and gets less soft..”

“Gotcha,” he sighed.

* * *

The boys had been coerced into leaving, Cara promising to have a nurse call them if anything changed, though it didn’t seem likely. Dean had to leave behind his jacket when she complained about the smell again, letting her use it as a scent-blocker so she could sleep through the night.

Sam and Dean had been there the first thing the next morning, and that was when they’d heard about the last murder. Sam had said he would check it out, seeing Dean a bit preoccupied with CJ’s post-sleep clinginess as she held his arm hostage. “I’ll drop you guys off at the room, and make the rounds, be sure it’s part of our case and be back in.. maybe an hour? Forty-five minutes?”

“Sounds good,” Dean nodded, using his other arm to pick the girl up behind her knees, carting, along with her, the flannel he had brought, since his jacket now smelled like hospital, and CJ was grouchy.

That woman’s sense of smell astounded the both of them.

* * *

“Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren vic.”

Dean set down the phone he’d plunked at, biting his inner cheek as he glanced toward CJ, who had curled up in a ball beneath, now four, different blankets. Her headache was still present, but according to her, the Metallica drums had lessened to subtle bongos. 

Like that made him any less anxious.

“You get in to see him?” Dean frowned.

“Yeah,” he nodded, careful closing the doors as he watched the lump of blankets shift, then move, a head popping out closest to them as misty hazel eyes peered out in an attempt to focus. “Said he brought a stripper home named Belle. Couple hours later, he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went M.I.A..”

“Wait, he killed his mom?” Dean repeated.  _ What the Hell-? _

Sam shrugged, “Woman he was closest to.” Dean nodded after a second, and the ringing of a phone pierced the air, the one he had been tinkering with, though Sam didn’t know. Swiping it from the table, he held it up for his brother to see, with a calm, distancing smile, “Yeah, you, uh, forgot your cell phone.” He waved it a bit in his brother’s line of sight, seeing the confusion there before he tossed it to his chest. Sam caught it with a slight fumble, checking the collar-ID before bringing it to his ear. “Hey Bobby.”

Dean got to his feet, and Sam took his vacant place, watching his brother with a bit of concern as he walked up to CJ and tugged at one of the blankets, completely covering her face.

“Hey Sam, did you find it, yet?”

Sam winced, lowering his eyes to the table as he cleared his throat, “Ah, no.. we were kind of.. Sidetracked last night..”

“Sidetracked? What the Hell happened? Did it get one of you?”

“CJ.. had a stroke..” Sam held his breath, and almost felt himself panic when he heard what sounded like toppling books over the line, “But she’s fine, now-! Her healing kicked in, and she was released this morning- we just- didn’t get to look very thoroughly last night. The siren doesn’t seem like it’s slowing down anytime soon..”

“Boy you best give me a better picture than that. Put CJ on the phone.”

Sam hesitated, and took the phone from his ear, turning just in time to see both CJ and Dean locked in an intense, silent pillow-fight. “Psst-!” they both froze mid-swing, turning their startled eyes to him in a busted way, before lowering their weapons. Sam held out the phone, looking toward the woman with a bit of well-placed annoyance. ‘Really?’ he mouthed. She shrugged, and looked at the phone he held out with confusion. “What?”

“Bobby wants to talk to you.”

“...Crap.”

“Put me on speaker, ya’ idjit,” was heard over the line, and Dean made a dramatic wince when CJ lightly punched his side. Sam did as he was asked, and cleared his throat. “Alright Bobby, we’re all here.”

“CJ?”

“Yes, Bobby?” she asked meekly.

“You best not be on your damned feet right now.”

“No, Bobby, I’m not.”

“Good. Stay that way. Dean?”

“Yes, Bobby?” Dean asked, in a similar tone to CJ, though there was a true bit of unease in his eyes at the brief moment of silence that followed. “Make sure she don’t get out of that bed. Healing be damned, if she had a stroke, she’s on bedrest.”

“Already taken care of,” Dean nodded, patting CJ’s shoulder loudly, though she had tackled him a second later, sending them both careening onto the bed with a loud squeak and a thunk before pillows were flying again. “Guys, seriously?” Sam scoffed, flinching back and out of the way as Dean threw one at him, before going back to his now one-sided assault with CJ.. He was grinning behind his bent, raised arms as he blocked each thump of her pillow, egging her on more and more with his playful eyes and his lady-killer smile.

“Sam, what the Hell are they doing?”

“...CJ’s attacking Dean with a pillow.”

“...You know what, I’m not asking. You wanted lore, right?”

“Yes,” he sighed, in relief this time, as he sat back down in the chair, clicking his fingers and getting the two to stop as they looked toward him with an identical grimace. Seemed he interrupted their fun. He waved the phone, and set it on the table, pulling a pen and a slip of paper from their mess on the table. “Alright, what have you got for us, Bobby?”

“Well, some lore from a dusty greek poem,” the old man gruffed, sounding put-out and a bit annoyed with the lack of text. “ _ Shockingly _ it’s a little vague. It says you need a bronze dagger covered in the blood of a sailor under the spell of the song.”

Dean, having calmed a bit from his tussle with the female at his side, reached across the bed to grab his beer from the nightstand, taking a sip as he listened, then frowning. “What the Hell does that mean?”

“You got me,” Bobby scoffed, “We’re dealing with 3,000 years of the telephone game, here.”

“Best guess?” Sam prodded.

“Well, the siren’s spell ain’t got nothing to do with any song.. It’s most likely some kind of  _ toxin _ or  _ venom _ .. Something she gets in the vics blood.”

“Makes them go all Manchurian candidate.” Sam nodded. “Uh, what do you think, she infects the men during sex?”

“Maybe,” Bobby aquisit.

“Supernatural STD,” Dean chuckled. CJ pat his shoulder in a gentle way, as if she were consoling him, completely ignoring his briefly confused lift of eyebrows.

“Well, however it happens,” Bobby sighed, “once it’s done, the siren’s got to watch her back. If she gets a dose of her own medicine..”

“It kills her,” Sam filled in the blank.

“Like a snake getting iced by its own venom,” Bobby agreed.

“So we just got to find a way to juice one of the O.J.’s in jail?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not that easy,” Bobby let out a grunt, “none of those guys are under the spell anymore. Haven’t got a clue where you’re gonna get the blood you need.”

Sam was quiet for a second, nodding his head, “I think I might have an idea.”

“Be careful,” Bobby warned him, “These things are tricky bastards. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit you.”

* * *

Sam and Dean entered the clinic a second time that morning, Just getting inside the door before a familiar face was presented to them carting a stack of files in her arms. “Doctor Roberts,” Sam greeted.

“Agent Stiles,” Cara nodded, flicking her eyes from Dean to Sam in confusion, “Is agent Jordan alright?” “She’s doing just fine,” Sam nodded, “Thank you for looking over her.”

“Part of the job,” she nodded, smiling bashfully before adjusting the files in her hands. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here on business,” Sam nodded, his hand gesturing a bit as he looked for what word he needed, “We’re here about the blood samples, the one with the high.. You know, oxytocin..?”

Dean speared his eyes from Sam, to the smiling, confused doctor in silent agony. “Dr Goo-Goo-Eyes” was right.  _ Criminy _ .. 

“Do you still have them?” he asked pleasantly.

“Mhmm,” she spared him a glance, and he nodded. “Good. We need them.”

“What for?” she asked.

“Excuse me, Doctor Roberts,” a younger man walked up behind the raven with concern. “Yeah?” she asked, turning her head while both Sam and Dean hurried to pull out their badges. “Excuse  _ me _ ,” Dean spoke up, gaining the man’s confused attention with a flick of his wrist, showing his badge, “Uh, we’re a little busy here, buddy.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling his own badge out with a miffed look. “So am I, pal.”

“Doc, could you give us a sec, please?” Sam asked gently.

“Sure,” she murmured, looking between the three before making her way toward her office. Sam smiled at her in encouragement, clearing his throat as the brothers straightened out.

“What’s your name?” Dean asked calmly.

“Nick Monroe,” the man tilted his head a bit, his eyes level and relaxed. “What’s your’s?”

“I’m special agent Sam Stiles, this is my partner, Dean Murdock. What office are you from?” Sam held out his badge, and Nick looked it over a moment before he answered. “Ah- Omaha. Violent-Crimes Unit. My S.A.C. sent me down here to see about the murders.” 

“Hm,” Sam scoffed, glancing toward the hallway with a bit of an airy vibe before leveling him with a stern look. 

“You?” Nick asked.

“D.C.” Dean quipped. “Our assistant director assigned us.”

“Which A.D.?” Nick questioned, his eyes looking almost challenging. The boys didn’t rise to the bait.

“Mike Kaiser,” Sam nodded. 

“What are your badge numbers,” Nick smiled a little. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean quipped.

“I’m just following protocol,” Nick shrugged innocently. 

“Look, man, whatever.. Uh, just,” he pulled a card from his wallet, and held it out to him with a cool look, “call our A.D. He’ll sort things out, huh?”

While he went off to call Bobby’s number, Dean pulled out his phone to check a buzz. 

CJ.

_ Pick up some burgers when you come back. I want something greasy and covered in cheese. -C _

He sent a quick ‘Will-do’ back at her. His mouth twitching at the corner when she sent a smiley-face, and he tucked his phone back into his pocket. He felt eyes on him, and looked up to see Sam watching him in confusion. 

“That was fast,” he murmured.

“What?” he gruffed, showing his hands in his pockets and raising an eyebrow. “What was fast?”

“It’s like you’re.. Back at start,” Sam shrugged, his voice low and mindful of the agent behind them. “You and CJ.. But.. you’re.. More, I guess..?”

“Less than you, clearly,” he rolled his eyes, “Don’t think I didn’t catch you touching her face the other morning while she was drooling.”

“I didn’t-.. I did not..” he grumbled, cutting himself off with a clear of his throat when his brother had smiled in victory, and Nick had started walking back over to them with a slightly uncomfortable expression. Clearly Bobby had chewed him out.

“So,” he sighed, handing back the card and putting his hands in his pockets, “Where you at with this?”

“Where are  _ you  _ at with this?” Dean asked before his brother could answer.

“Well, I was about to run the perp’s blood work.”

“I already checked,” Sam spoke then, his voice low, “It’s a dead end.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Well, get this,” Nick rolled his tongue in his mouth, turning his attention to Dean with a bit of gusto, “I feel like I found something that connects all the murders..” Dean raised his eyebrows, but Sam was the vocal one. “Really?”

Nick nodded, his face knowing. “They were all bangin’ strippers.” When Dean looked mildly amused, he continued, “From the same club.”

“You don’t say,” the elder brother grunted.

“What do you say, uh, we go down and check it out?” Nick offered, almost companionably. 

“Well, you see, here’s the thing, Nick,” Dean spoke up, licking his lips and squaring his shoulders as he prepared the speech, “See.. We’re kind of lone wolves-”

“Y-You know what,” Sam cut in, putting a hand to his brother’s shoulder and cutting him off quickly, “That sounds like an excellent idea. Just give me a second with my partner. And we’ll, uh.. One second.” Dean shot him a look of surprise, but Sam was already hauling him away. “Come here,” Sam had to near physically turn his brother to get him to walk away, patting his shoulder firmly until they were out of earshot and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Dude, you’ve got to stay with him.”

“What?” Dean grumbled.

“Keep him out of the way,” Sam clarified.

“Why me?” Dean demanded.

“‘Cause I gotta get the blood samples.” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“What the Hell am I supposed to do with him?” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Just,” Sam shrugged, his eyes puppy-like in their pleading. CJ would have crumbled, and Dean could only silently admit defeat behind his eyes. “Take him to the strip club. Keep an eye out for the siren. Come on, Dean, just-” Seeing his brother wanting none of it, he tried a different, never-fail tactic, “Focus on the naked girls. You’ll forget he’s even there.” Dean stopped at that, feeling a nagging at the back of his head, wondering, for all the world, why the Hell he wasn’t immediately interested.

He had his suspicions, his ideas, and the very wisp of a thought down that road had his mind crashing to a halt, alarm bells blaring.

He needed to stop that train of thought before it slammed into something important.

Licking his lips, he glanced up at his brother, narrowing his eyes as he forced himself to relax. “I’m not doing this for you.. I’m doing this for the girls.”


	72. Apologies to One and All

As you've noticed, I've been several lacking in the updates department for nearly two months now. Several of you have expressed legitimate concern about my health, and I would like to express my deepest thanks and appreciation for the concern.

During my vacation, which was only to be scheduled as a brief, one week hiatus from updating, my computer was damaged.

Like, ruined, damaged.

_I needed an entirely new hard drive._

Then they lost my computer.

Then they found it.

Sent it to the wrong technician's store. (Which shall remain unnamed because I still shop there and generally like the people who work there)

And I _finally_ got it back.

Now, I'm working on my off time from nine-ten hour shifts at work to catch up on my rhythm, plus I'll be spending more time trying to catch up on other things as well.

Like fleshing out CJ's family. When I started this series, I only had names and general events, but now..

Now I kind of want to put each member of the family into something else.

I know they can _take_ it, (The majority are Jordan's, for Pete's sake #nospoliers) but I'm not sure if the idea is _overdone_ in the fanfiction community..

OC inserts are few and far between if you're looking for something long-winded and substantial, and each of my stories is set to pick apart the TV-Land worlds we all wish to be in and ripping them apart, down to the nitty-gritty to show what life there would  _really_ be like with all this Over-Powered bullshit.

The idea would be for me to pre-write every book and update them gradually, like I do currently, but there's only so many hours in a day..

_And the Jordan family is so fucking huge I have to wonder what the hell was going through my head when I thought of this.._

But at the same time, it's now an ongoing project.

_So there's that.._

Now, to those of you who have been waiting, at precisely noon, I will be posting the next chapter. 

And for being such wonderful, patient readers, with such touching messages, I've decided to  _reward_ you a bit..

>:)

Enjoy~

Pistol


	73. Chapter 73

“We’re taking my ride,” Dean lead Agent Monroe out of the clinic and toward his car, “No complaining about the tunes.”

“No way,” Nick scoffed, looking over Baby with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You drive an Impala?”

“Yeah,” Dean quipped.

“It’s a 67’, right?” Dean, in the middle of opening his door, halted at the young man’s admiration. Nick continued, “It’s a 327 four-barrel.”

“Yeah,” Dean repeated, a little less snippy as he took in this weird, strangely decent human being. “Yeah, actually..”

“It’s a thing of beauty,” Nick grinned, looking her over from hood to bumper.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled, a bit of gruff in his voice.

“How the Hell did you talk the bureau into letting you drive your own wheels?” Nick demanded with a grunt, sliding into the front seat and shutting the door with care even Dean could see.

“Determination, and a lot of ass-kissing,” Dean grinned.

This might not be so bad.

* * *

CJ sat up in bed as her phone rang, frowning as she brought it to her ear, “Gabe, hey. What’s-”

“ _Why the Hell didn’t you answer your phone_?”

She halted a bit at his voice. It sounded stern, and breathy, a touch away from panic. “ _You were praying, and I called you. Why didn’t you answer your phone_?”

“I- I didn’t know I was.. Praying..” she murmured, lifting a hand to fix her bangs as she sat up, “ _ Fuck _ , Gabe, I had a stroke last night, my body and my brain were-”

“Where are you?”

“Gabe, I’m fine, now, I just needed to-”

“ _ Where. Are. You _ .”

She closed her mouth, took a breath, and glanced at the notepad on the bedside table. 

“Comfy Lodgings motel, Bedford Iowa, room one-oh-nine.-”

She had barely finished the words before there was a burst of wind and she was being crushed to a firm chest. The breath left her lungs in a swoop, and she scrambled to adjust her arms so they didn’t touch the six, massive golden things sweeping intangible through the room behind him as she tried to hug back. “Fuck- Gabe- Human- Air-!”

He loosened his hold, ever so slightly, but she could breath again, and she sighed, closing her eyes as she rested her chin onto his shoulder. “Shit, man. Sorry if I spooked you.. My brain was on shut-down and I’ve been trying to get my bearings all morning..”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he murmured, pulling back enough that his fingers could ghost over her head. “Just a headache,” she admit softly, biting her lip as his fingers traced soft, swirling patterns into the heated skin of her face. She’d been under the blanket for an hour, now. “It’ll go away in a few days. I just.. Need rest. Like usual.”

“Have you been sleeping?” he whispered. His hands were pushing back her hair, now, making sure he could look over every inch of exposed skin she had beneath her bangs, and what her flannel and shorts didn’t hide.

“I have,” she sighed, closing her eyes as another, soft pulse attacked them before she opened them again, “Seriously, I have. And I’ve been eating, too. Stuff that isn’t just sugar.”

“The horror,” he muttered, a smile playing on his lips, though it was wiped away when she winced, and brought a hand up to cover her eyes. “Light hurt?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my body was trying to tune into angel radio.”

It was silent for ten, long counts before she dropped her hand, and looked over to see Gabriel’s focussed, thoughtful expression. “Gabe?”

“Hmm..” he hummed, but it was distracted. He was eyeing her hairline with an uncharacteristic sternness that made her shiver.

“Gabe, what are you thinking?”

He huffed then, his wings folding back and his head tilting up as he groaned, and lowered his face to his hands, “Oh, boy.. Let’s pray it’s not..”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I don’t want Zacharia on my ass, no offence, but your brother is a douchebag.” 

“None taken,” he scoffed. “He was a douchebag before it was even a word. We just didn’t have one for him, yet.”

“I like you so much as a person,” her hand came forward, and she was touching his shoulder in a firm, no-nonsense pat. “Really, you give me hope for Tippens and Lulu.”

“Lulu?” he repeated, a smile curling along his lips as he tilted his head, “ _ Lulu? _ ”

“Yeah, he’d hit me, wouldn’t he?” she grinned, “You call him Lucy, though, so it can’t be much worse.”

“He’d do more than hit you,” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, he might slug me a little, but he won’t hurt me,” she leaned back in her nest of blankets, and Gabriel seemed to settle down as he folded his legs indian style and scooched forward so they were just inches from being knee-to-knee. “What makes you so certain about that?”

“Aside from the fact that he now has a therapist?” she raised an eyebrow, giving him a smile when he looked confused, “Dude, he talked about Ramsey with me..  _ Ramsey _ .. His  _ dog _ .. He’s opening up.. Little by little, yeah, but.. He is. And I’ve got faith in him, and so do you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be working with me.”

“How do you know I’m not double-crossing you? Contracts are fickle, especially verbal ones, I could always keep it and get you caught.”

“You won’t because I know you,” she smiled again, and it was the warm one, that one right there- that always got his mind wandering in thought. She was like this.. This weird, untouchable human that could kill him if he pushed too hard.. “And you’re a good person Gabe, we’ve talked about this. I’m not going to lose my trust in you, I don’t think, ever. You’re too good of a person for me to be worried.”

“You shouldn’t have so much faith in others like that,” he scoffed, his head perking up at a familiar, waning feeling getting closer. “I should go.. Your moose in shining armor has arrived..”

“Sam?” she mumbled, raising her eyebrows when he tilted his head. 

“Kisses for the road?”

She reached over her bed to grab a bag of candy, and fished out three kisses before leaving them in his palm. “Safe flight, Gabe.”

“Will do,” he salute, disappearing with a wave of his wings. She sniffed the air, smelling a lingering hint of chocolate on her clothes and skin, before shrugging, and lying back. She shifted a little, looking down at the fabric that was now covering her legs, and laughing at the Hershey-kisses print, baby blue pajama pants. They were so soft and cute..

_ Thank you, Gabe.. _

The door opened just a few seconds later, and CJ popped a single eye open when Sam waltzed in, not a hair out of place and a frown on his lips. He looked up when he got inside, seeing her sprawled on the bed, and he stopped, taking in the way her hair was mussed, and her clothes rumpled, before he caught her eye open and cleared his throat, shaking his head, “CJ- hey, do you still have that vial of blood you asked for at the clinic the other day?”

“You mean the one in my coat?” she raised her eyebrows, sitting up and watching the way the younger Winchester flicked his eyes away from her quickly, before finding her coat and hurrying to it. He looked almost deathly relieved as he pulled the rolled-up plastic from the inner pocket and gave it a kiss. “Thank you, CJ. Thank you.”

“What?” she asked, sitting up straight as he turned to her, undoing the plastic so he could pull it out, and watch the murky red liquid swish around inside. “Dude, stop it with the fuck-me face. It’s getting a little old.” He lowered the vial to look over at her, see her in the big grey flannel, the soft-looking sweatpants she’d probably just bought, and messy, short brown hair. He kind of missed her long hair..

“Sam, seriously, stop it. I thought you would have been gone longer,” she rolled her eyes at him, then, tucking one knee over the other and pulling one of her many blankets around her shoulders, the new one he had bought for her, a soft-to-the-touch green one with a tribal-type pattern on one side.

“Why?” he murmured, taking a second to tuck the vial into a safe compartment of his bag. He’d use it when they found a bronze dagger. “Did you see me somewhere else?”

“Uhm, yes?” she nodded slowly, eyebrows raised in honest, litteral shock as she blinked at him slowly. “N.. Naked on the floor of Dr Goo-Goo-Eye’s office..”

“..What?” he furrowed his eyebrows, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, setting the bag down and moving to sit on the bed across from her, “You.. saw me naked-”

“No- I did not-!” she was quick to insert, hands raised up and chest height as she waved at him in warning, “Lollipops,  _ no _ , I didn’t. Believe it or not, there’s  _ is _ a sort of censoring.. Kind of like a PG-13 movie..”

“How much did you see..?” He asked slowly, but his eyes were bright and mirthful as she turned beet red in an instant, “I didn’t  _ see _ anything, I just.. Tried to tune in on that specific vision and I kind of.. Saw the process.. Of.. you know.. Rough flirting..?”

“We didn’t flirt,” he shook his head, he couldn’t stop the laughter beneath his breath.

“What,” she looked genuinely spooked by his answer, and he shook his head, slowly, “We didn’t flirt.. I never.. Wound up naked on Dr Goo-Goo-Eye’s office floor.”

“..Seriously?” she spoke quietly after a minute, a hand coming up to her head as she narrowed her eyes, “But, wait- if that was different then.. What else have I..?”

“My visions didn’t come true sometimes,” Sam offered after a minute, seeing the actual concern on her face and going forward to grab her hands where they were digging into her scalp, “Hey, stop that before you draw blood.. Relax.. When I got visions, sometimes they didn’t happen at all, because Dean and I did something to change it. You probably just changed it.”

“That freaks me out,” she grumbled, ducking her head when he had started smiling and forcing her eyes to look toward the ceiling, “Seriously, enough of the fuck-me face.”

“What?” he murmured, leaning forward when she tugged at her hands, not letting her go, but allowing her to bring them closer to her sides, “If it’s like you said it, I must have missed out on something really good tonight.. What do you have to say for yourself..”

She blinked at him slowly, and from this short distance, he could see the design of her hazel iris, the yellow-green encasing what looked like a flowering of grey-blue around her pupil. Her big, widening pupil. Well, well, well..

“Sam..” she murmured, “You.. you do know I don’t.. I don’t do stupid shit in motels..”

“You had a pillow fight with Dean while I was on the phone with Bobby,” he pointed out.

“Point to Winchester,” she murmured.

“I’m not going to going to touch you, or do anything you think I shouldn’t do, CJ,” he murmured, his hands were still wrapped around her slightly cold ones, but she didn’t pull away. “What happened with the Coin case, and what happened at the school.. I think we need to stop avoiding that.”

“Sam-”

“You can tell me off after I’m done,” he cut her off, and she pressed her lips tightly together when he nodded, took a deep breath, and relaxed his hold on her hands, until they were just dangling together in the air between the beds and their knees. “CJ, last night, when you were having that stroke, I had.. A bit of an epiphany..”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow, pinching her eyes shut when he’d let go of one of her hands to pinch her nose. “Yes, now hush. I’m not close to done.”

She grumbled under her breath, but didn’t comment, and he let go of her nose to put his hand on the bed, a few solid inches from her hip. “When Dean and I were waiting for you to come out of the ER, we were freaked. We didn’t know if your healing thing was going to work, and we didn’t know if you were going to come out of this okay.. And, I think, here, Dean has the same idea.. We don’t.. Want to go out with you mad at us.. We want you, when you’re with us, to be happy, and smiling, and playful. Like you were this morning. We both hate it, really hate it, when you try to take a knife for us, or when you’re hurt. And we can see that, with Bobby, it’s like you’re already family. Dean’s not going to admit it, outright, but you were family the second you dug him out of that grave.” CJ swallowed, taking in his murky eyes and his serious, pressing turn of lips as he continued.

“I want you.. In more ways, than just the physical one. I want to hear your voice in the mornings, when you’re tired, and you sound like you swallowed a cup of rusty nails.” She shot him a look, but he continued, undeterred, “I want to wake up, just to come downstairs and see you singing and dancing in the kitchen, making breakfast.. I want to see you babying your car, washing it every time it gets so much as a dust scrape. I want to see you with Dean, and me, watching crappy TV after a long, stressful hunt. I want to share popcorn with you, and sit on the couch and not have to worry about if you’re going to go awol on us because of how shitty we are sometimes- and we’re like that, CJ, we are really shitty some days, and our attitudes suck, you know that. You know we have bad days, and there are days we just sit there with an itch to kill something so strong you can can feel it in the air. And I want you to be there, CJ, I want to be there with you, not because you see things that may or may not happen, and not because you’re an easy vent. I want you there, because.. I like you, a lot, more than a lot, and it’s not love- you know it’s not that strong and I won’t bullshit with you, but if I had a pick between any girl on the planet right now, and I had to be handcuffed for the rest of my life to any one of them, I’d pick you in a heartbeat.”

“Why?” she scoffed, her eyes narrowed as her nose perked up, almost like a rabbit, “The kinky sex?”

“Well,” he sniffed, fixing his hand from around her fingers to entwining them, “I’d like to say  _ no _ … but it’s not a bad bonus..”

“Sam Winchester, you shut your mouth,” she grumbled, swatting at his chest with her free hand when he got off of his bed and sat down on his haunches in front of her, making it so she had to look down just a bit to be level with his eyes. 

“Crackerjacks Ambrosia Jordan,” the fact that he had said it with a straight face was the only thing keeping her palm from slamming against his cheek with the force of a jet-plane. “I want to kiss you. I want to hug you, and hold you, and wake up together in the mornings. I want to eat together, laugh together, and hunt monsters right next to you. You asked Dean what he thought of how he sees you, and us, and, honestly, he’s a little wrong, because if you want a third-person perspective, Dean feels the exact same way I do. He just hides it better.”

“I call bullshit,” she sighed. “And, like I said, I don’t do stupid shit in motel rooms.”

“Then we won’t do anything stupid,” he reassured her softly. “I just.. Need to hear it from you if you would even consider something like that.”

“Like what?” she mumbled.

“Well,” he sniffed, biting his lip as he tilted his head to the side, “I.. can’t really, in good heart, make you mine, and still work together with Dean on a daily basis.. And I see the way he looks at you enough to know that we’d both be devastated if you said you wanted to leave.”

“And?” she prodded, “Are you, what? Proposing polygamy?” 

He stopped, weighed the word, and nodded, shrugging his shoulders a little when she had given him a silent, blank stare. “Hey, you said it yourself, you must have done something big for me to turn down _Doctor Goo-Goo-Eyes_.. And you saw Dean at the strip club last night.. Has he  ever , in your time of knowing him, _ever_ been so strung-out and annoyed around so many naked women?”

“Never,” she scoffed, “But that could be contributed to the fact that we were a hairs grasp away from ganking a siren and I was useless.”

“CJ,” he sat up then, bit his lip, and gave her a single, long look.

She was on her back a few seconds later.

* * *

_This is where I had planned to stop it the first time, before the vacation fiasco, but because you were all so sweet, I'm extending it to be less mean._

* * *

 

Hands were heavy and hot, and tongues were burning and twisting, fingers and toes curling..

His hips pressed down, and her back arched, her fingers twisting fitfully through his hair as she pressed her heels into the back of his thighs. His jacket was gone, shirt unbuttoned and his t-shirt rolled up to his collar, small, slim hands pressing fervently into the skin of his stomach, and chest. Nails tracing up along the fine hairs of his trail and spreading across his heart. 

Sam’s phone was ringing.. 

Big, monster-sized palms cupped her entire ass as he pressed forward, lips heavy and peppering her neck with moist, fluttering kisses as they pressed as tightly as they could to one another. The closeness, the heat, the  _ skin _ contact was enough to send his thoughts reeling and his hips forward, making the woman beneath him whimper enough that she could feel a moan rumbling in his chest. And if that wasn’t sexy as all Hell..

“Sam.. Sam, Dean is calling..” her whispers were heavy, and breathing frantic, and she made a whining, high-pitched sound when his tongue had lapped at a soft red mark on her collar-bone. “Mm-  _ fuck- _ !  _ Sam- _ ! Dean is- oh  _ fuck _ ..” she bucked into him, hard, and his lips pulled into a smile, white teeth shining as he pulled back to look at her flushed, simpering expression. He kept his height advantage as she caught her breath, hazel eyes fluttering shut as she tried to calm down, biting her lip and keeping her head pressed back against the pillows.

_ It was enough to make him hungry. _

The phone stopped ringing. 

“CJ,” he whispered, licking his lips as she fisted the pillow beside her head, staring at him with wide, accusing eyes and a pinch to her lips that showed just how well he had kissed them. Red and rosy from the rough, frantic touch-and-go. His hands were still curled into the fabric of her pants. They really were as soft as they looked. 

“Sam, Dean’s gonna be worried,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she took a deep, shuddering breath. The pulsepoint on her neck, which he had thoroughly lavished with his tongue and lips, was beating hard enough that he could see her heart racing. He’s marked her only where her collars covered. As much as he would want to mark higher, he wouldn’t push it. Other things, however..

His hips rolled again, and she squeaked softly, the sound going straight to his downside brain and making him pause as he leaned back down, letting his lips flutter along her left ear as he whispered, and feeling her body arch into him almost automatically. “Now who’s got the fuck-me face on?”

“Sam, I will beat you,” she whined, her legs twitching against him and her thighs squeezing tight around her hips. “Remember the whole ‘I feel your pain’ thing?”

“Are you in pain?” he asked softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he fell back a few inches. Was he reading her wrong? “Is Dean in pain?”

“No, but Dean is  _ buzzed _ ,” she whispered, licking her lips as she reached up one of her hands and tangled them into his hair, “And you are  _ horny _ .. Mix those two up, would you, doll?”

Her hips rocked up, and he grunted, his head falling to her shoulder with a soft moan as she pulled her free hand up to his back beneath his shirt and then going lower, until she was palming the bare skin of his ass beneath his suit pants and boxers. 

Suit pants he was going to ruin if this went any further. He groaned, bringing his lips to hers again for another, wet kiss, before he pulled back, hearing her groan of annoyance before he slipped his shirts off, both the button-up and the t-shirt, letting them fall to the floor beside the bed before he took his place again. He touched the skin of her stomach, where the flannel had been pushed up, and he wondered, briefly, what it would be like to see her in nothing but that, or one of his..

Hot, his brain supplied quick enough, Hot enough that she wouldn’t be leaving the room in it, with pants or no.

Well,  _ definitely _ not without pants..

“Oh god, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, his teeth nipping at her ear and tracing his tongue along the side as she shuddered, gasped, and squirmed in his hold, rubbing right where he needed her to as she whined. He groaned. “So gorgeous.. I just want to keep you here, right here.. Like this, for hours.. I want mark you, make sure everyone knows where I was, what I touched. Make sure  _ you _ know.. When you look in a mirror, right where I’ve been..”

“Holy fuck, Sam, _stop_ ,” she whimpered. The word had him frozen, and she whined again as she squirmed, lifting her hand from its place behind him and in his hair and hurriedly putting them to his chest, “Stop, stop, stop it before I go too far. I’m teetering, here, Sam, I.. I need to cool down.. And so do you..  _ Holy fuck _ ..” she breathed the last part heavily as he sat up, her glassy, lust-clouded hazel eyes looking like diamonds as they glittered at him. He wanted to just sit there, watching her clutch her chest and breathe in and out, even and slow. 

“Okay, we.. we need some sort of safe word or something.. Because  _ that _ .. That was too much..” she whispered. Her knees were trembling, and she had curled up on the bed to his right. He lied out on his right side and watched her force herself to come down from the teetering high. “Sam.. where the Hell did you.. What Youtube video did you watch for that to be a thing..?”

He started openly laughing then, his lips quirked up in a smile as he watched her gradually relax into her pile of blankets. “Shut up,” she grumbled, burrowing her face in the pillows and hiding her flushed cheeks. It hadn’t faded a bit. 

“I don’t know, you were pretty great on your own,” he smiled, raising an eyebrow when she moaned, and pressed herself deeper into the mattress. “Are you avoiding me again?” he asked playfully, his smile flickering as his light tone stayed, though it wavered, “Are we going to pretend this didn’t happen..?”

“Fuck, Sam.. I don’t know, okay.. This.. this vision, when I had it, was  _ literally  _ labeled  _ Sex and Violence _ .. Can.. Can we put a raincheck on that talk- I’m all for having it, really I am, but can it be  _ after _ the case? I mean, Dean’s probably- Shit  _ Dean called-!” _

She’d bolted out of the bed in an instant, and she was hurrying to fumble for her phone. She’d left it on vibrate earlier, because the ringtone to her message alerts had been driving her insane. 

Five missed calls from Dean.

He was  _ so _ going to kill her..

“I am so dead,” she whispered, staring at the little orange phones beside her Squirrel contact with wide, panicked eyes, “Dean is going to kill me..”

“I’ll call him,” he assured her softly, big, warm hands pressing into her shoulders from behind and gently kneading. She could feel small bits of panic fade, but she was still wide-awake and nervous, now. “Call him now, please. He might be hurt.”

“I doubt it,” he sighed, shaking his head, “Not even Dean is that stupid..”

* * *

 

“Still no word from Dean?” CJ frowned, she’d managed to coerce Sam into taking her out for something specific, shooting a text to Bobby on the way with their room number and the fact she had a vial of infected blood. 

“No,” Sam scoffed, squeezing the phone between his fingers tightly before letting them fall lax as he flicked his eyes to her. 

“...He’s hit by the siren isn’t he?”

“A-yep.”

“And, _I’m guessing_ , when he didn’t listen to me about not shaking up with Dr Goo-Goo-Eyes.. He just.. Assumed the worst because he’s under the spell?”

“Actually, no,” she frowned, taking in his confused expression and running a hand through her hair. “He, ah.. Didn’t get infected till around nine.. You called him around seven.. It’s about.. Nine thirty.. He should be getting to the room now.. Siren should be there..”

“Were you going to tell me this on the way?”

“I would have told you in the hallway before you opened the door,” she shrugged, smiling sheepishly when he rolled his eyes before shuffling her feet, “Bobby is also on his way. He got a call from Dean, before he was drugged, saying that you were jeopardized. Should be here in.. t-minus five after we get to the hotel.”

“Alright,” he sighed, shaking out his hair before gripping the bag of burgers, pulling a specially made-one out for her and watching as she unwrapped it, “Well, let’s get back to the room.. So I can see my brother get duped by a siren..”

“He’s still a dude, so I’m allowed to make the jokes now,” CJ murmured around a hefty bite. 

Sam’s eyes shot up. “Wait, what?”

“Agent Monroe?" She repeated dubiously, giving him a bitchface to rival all bitchfaces, “Agent  _ Nick _ Monroe? That doesn’t at  _ all _ sound weird and super cheesy for an FBI agent?”

“Dean’s siren is a _guy_?” Sam mumbled, walking along the path with her as they quickened their steps. “Kind of,” CJ shrugged, “At first, Siren was aiming for Doctor Goo-Goo-Eyes, wanted to figure out how to slip by her quick to get the blood. Which it did. By the way, notice anything about Monroe?” He raised an eyebrow, and she couldn’t help but smirk. “Fairly young.. Super tall.. Brown hair.. FBI..?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“It’s true,” she insisted quickly, grinning from ear to ear as she tugged on his sleeve, “It wanted to play her pay-roll for a hot minute, but then you guys walked in, and it could see Dean was more strung-out than you, and since your dynamic favored  _ your _ leader ship, it took that as it's cue to go for Dean as an easier target. Trust me, if Dean had been bossing you around right then, it would have changed its attitude to suit you more. Because, and correct me if I’m wrong, it didn’t start acting all cute, cuddly and innocent until  _ after _ you two had interacted, right?”

“Oh, shit,” he murmured.

“You were almost siren food,” she grinned, “It was your Alpha-male tendencies that saved your bacon..”

“Speaking of bacon,” he murmured as they reached the motel, his hand coming out and swatting sharply at her rear end, causing her to squeal and fumble to save her cheeseburger. She shot him a look, eyes demanding and explaination and he leveled her eyes with a stare that was one part chastising and one part XXX-rated thoughts. “Next time you plan to give me a run-down, make sure it’s not seconds before a fight. I’m glad I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

His hand went to her hair, playing with a short strands, and he messed them up a bit before continuing on to the stairway. “You’re forgiven. Now come on. Will he jump me?”

“Definitely. But I’ll handle Dean, you just stay away from pretty boy.”

“He’s not pretty at all,” Sam frowned at her, and she offered a shrug and a smile, “I dunno, he’s cute for a young’n.”

“Don’t call him cute, he’s a siren,” Sam grumbled, handing her the bag so she could put her napkin in there, and handing it over so she could set the rest of the burgers down a few feet from their room door. She pulled out a taser from her side bag, zapping it once before Sam shook his head, and she put it away with a pout. She pulled out a length of rope, then a hospital mask. “What are these for?” he frowned.

“Uhmm. Mask so you don’t get venomized, he spits like a snake. Rope so you can try to tie Dean up. He has a knife, be wary. Hand at the level of your eye and all that..”

“I should spank you,” he grumbled, smiling a bit when she jumped back a step and hurried to cover her rear. “You will  _ not _ ,” she glared, “What happened in that room three hours ago..? That.. was  _ nothing.. Absolutely nothing _ compared to the level of crazy I can get.. Do not push those buttons.”

“So, spanking is off the table?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll let you spank me if we find the Men of Letters Bunker,” she sniffed. 

“The what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“My point,” she rolled her eyes. “Whatever, lets just.. Do this and go.. Bobby should be here soon.. I  _ really _ don’t want to deal with..  _ That _ ..”

“You should.. Maybe hang back,” he nodded, “Hide so he doesn’t see you.”

“But.. you know what? Fine.. Okay,” she whispered. He nodded, and walked the last ten feet to the door, sending her a brief, knowing nod, before he opened it, and stepped inside. “Dean-?”

The door closed shut a second later. 

“Shit,” CJ winced, before turning to run down the hallway.

No need for  _ that  _ ax..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, a big THANK-YOU to my lovely followers. I couldn't have found the will to continue this if not for your comments, questions and tender-hearted support.
> 
> The Convention-Special Chapter will be posted on November 1st, which I have found to be labelled as Author's Day on certain calendar websites.
> 
> THE DEADLINE HAS BEEN CEMENTED FOR SEPTEMBER 20TH.
> 
> DO YOU LIKE TO DRAW-???  
> I will be hosting a fanart competition solely for this fic.  
> Pieces are to be entered no later than October 28th, to my email, (or through links in the comments, deviant art is weird, I personally understand) in which I will announce the WINNERS (plural) who will receive one of three extravagant prizes~!
> 
> 1) A drawing of you(or your OC) with one of the Balance Series Cast-!
> 
> 2)A drawing of your Favorite Ship from the Balance series Cast-!
> 
> 3)A character insertion for Season 6. Either you or your OC-! Position will be discussed by character(or your) personality and situation in story.
> 
> So that's all for now. Don't forget, the form to fill out for the Convention Special Chapter is 59, and THE DEADLINE HAS BEEN CEMENTED-!
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful support.
> 
> ~Pistol  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> athousandpossiblepaths @ gmail . com


	74. Chapter 74

CJ waited until Dean had crashed through the door with Sam to make her move, her leg shooting up and nailing him in the ribs. The pain echoed everywhere, her wrists, her fists, her face, her torso, legs, everything hurt. But the fact that this shape-shifting bitch was making the boys hurt each  _ other _ ..

CJ does not stand for that shit..

“Hey,  _ Asshole- _ !” she snapped, taking a quick, furtive kick to Sam’s neck when he’d gotten up and looked at her in confusion. He’d only been told to fight Dean. “Yeah, you, Siren bitch-!”

Pretty boy Nick exit the room with a raise of his eyebrows, tilting his head a bit and looking surprised. “I didn’t know there was a third person here..  _ Hm _ .” 

“Missed one, motherfucker,” she hissed.

“Did I?” He raised an eyebrow, looked her up and down, and smirked. “Grab her.”

“Wait a second,” she had expected a fight, not a-ohshitohshitohshit- “Lucky.. Remember not even three hours ago that thing were were talking about..? Yeah, you need to stop now..” She was backing away quickly, and she could hear the rumble of a familiar, old car.  _ She just had to stall.  _ “Okay, Dean, I know you’re pissed that I ruined the case by having a stroke, but that’s no reason to- okay-yep-grabbing-me-touching-alright..” she was quickly dragged over to the Siren, presented like a fucking drowned cat by her shoulders and upper arms, and had to bite back the urge to spit at him..

_ Just a little longer.. The blood is the burger bag, Bobby.. Please.. Please for the love of pie, read the text.. _

“I’ve never tried direct venom with women,” he tilted his head, walking forward with a bit of a mocking lilt to his steps as he reached out a hand and cupped her chin, “So.. which one of theirs are you..? Dean’s.. Or Sam’s..?”

“Eat me, fuckface,” she grimaced, glaring at the man and feeling her nose scrunch up reflexively, “Dude, you reek like cat piss. How does no one  _ smell _ that shit..?”

“I’ve been told I smell lovely,” he scoffed, prying her jaw open, and frowning when she resisted, “This would go a lot faster if you just let me do this. Come on, relax.. What the Hell..?”

He saw the bruises flowering against her skin and disappearing after several seconds, his eyes going wide in wonder as he leaned closer, “Are you a werewolf? It would explain the smell thing.. But.. you don’t smell that bad, either..” His nose trailed along her throat, up to her ear, and she was squirming again in an effort to break out of the boy’s hold. Her feet dangled toward the floor and her upper arms held tightly by the stone faced boys eyeing the siren with Goo-Goo worthy eyes.

He finally got her jaw open, and the most bitter, tangy thing she’d ever tasted settled on her tongue. She gagged, held the impending vomit back, and forced herself to calm. She would be let go if she was calm.. Her head lolled a bit, and she blinked slowly, relaxing her shoulders.

“There we go..” he whispered, a smile on his lips as she fluttered her eyes open. There was a bit of venom dripping down from the corner of her mouth, and he used the pad of his thumb to wipe it off, “Let her down, boys..” They didn’t even hesitate to listen, gently setting her down while their everything looked her over. It would make him happy..

“Look at you, all pliant..” he murmured, smiling as he continued to brush his thumb along her cheek, hazel eyes trailing over his face slowly, “You know.. You’re actually kind of cute.. I wonder what I can make you three do-” The sound of a knife slicing into flesh filled the air a second before Nick had grunted, a choke on his lips as he coughed, and staggered forward, the boys looking panicked as they made to moved forward, but two, well placed fists into the male’s solar plexus put all three down for several long seconds. CJ included. The boys looked like they were in agony, their eyes only for Nick as he slowly, slowly died, crawling his way further down the hall for a few feet before he met sight with a pair of grunge covered boots, old jeans, a ratty shirt, a hunter’s vest and Bobby fucking Singer.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” CJ echoed, her mouth twitching with the urge to vomit. “The badass has arrived..”

“Shut it,” he grunted, sending a kick to the Siren’s head before reaching down and twisting the knife sharply into the creature’s back. It screeched, in agony and pain, and the boy’s echoed the sound, though theirs was more emotional.. And the thing finally died.

It was silent for almost a full minute as the boys blinked away their haze, and CJ could finally let out a soft, happy giggle.. “Fucking hell, man.. That shit tasted like the smell of cat piss.. I hate Sirens..”

And she collapsed.

Bobby was at her side in an instant, taking in the smear of blood on her neck, and the bruises flowering over her skin and fading. He sucked in a deep breath, calmed himself, and picked her up, pulling her into the damaged room and setting her on the bed before going to get the boys.

_ Idjits. _

* * *

 

CJ accepted the soda Bobby handed her with a thankful smile, her eyes tired as she thunked her head back into Baby’s side door. “Thanks Bobby..”

“Drink it, ya brat,” he grumbled, moving to hand the last two to Sam and Dean, leaving one for himself. “Thanks,” Sam nodded. Dean took his with a nod, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Soda?”

“You boys are driving, ain’t ya?” Bobby scoffed. CJ chuckled, and gave the older man a smile when he nodded at her. 

“Thanks Bobby,” Sam admit after his sip, working up the gall to actually address the events of the night before, “You know, you.. If you hadn’t shown up when you did..”

“Done the same for me,” Bobby shrugged, “More than once. Of course,” his tone turned snarky, and he levelled all three of the adults with a glare, “You could have picked up a phone. Only took one call to figure out that agent Nick Monroe wasn’t real.”

It was quiet for a few counts, and CJ sipped her soda in the silence, enjoying it.

“You three gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice an octave lower.

“Yeah fine,” Sam nodded, at the same time Dean had given a, “Yeah, good.”

Bobby shook his head quickly before giving a two fingered salute. “See ya.” he nodded at them, and turned toward CJ in feigned annoyance, “And don’t you forget to call every now and again. You’re almost as bad as them about it.”

“Yes Papa Bear,” she smiled. He scoffed, took one long, lingering look at Cleo, before shaking his head, and moving to get back to his Chevelle.

He stopped just at the hood of his car, shaking his head before he turned to give the boys a look of deep contemplation. “You know, those sirens are nasty things. That it got to you- that’s no reason to feel bad.” When Sam had lifted his drink in acknowledgement, he nodded, and slipped into his car, driving away without another word to the trio. 

It was when Bobby’s car was nearly out of sight for the boys to start talking again. 

“You gonna say goodbye to Cara?” Dean broke the silence first, his hand shoved in his pocket as he rubbed his fingers over his car keys.

“Why would I?” Sam raised an eyebrow, shooting his brother a smile when the blonde looked confused, “I wasn’t lying about not being with Cara.”

“Wait, then where were you?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Talking with CJ,” he nodded toward the girl on the ground, who seemed to be in a deep state of bliss as she nursed her soda and listed to music with her clunky purple headphones.

“Huh,” Dean murmured, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Look Dean, you know I didn’t mean the things I said back there, right? That it was just the siren’s spell talking?” he continued after a few beats.

“Of course, me too,” Dean nodded quickly.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, “So.. So we’re good?”

Dean took a deep breath in, and nodded, “Yeah, we’re good.”

* * *

 

I know it's short, but it's the bittersweet ending I thought it needed.

Questions?

Comments?

Concerns?

There's a cute little box at the bottom for this purpose. 

:3

PLEASE SEE PREVIOUS CHAPTER'S BOTTOM NOTES FOR INFORMATION ON DEADLINES-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	75. Grimm Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> This chapter is incredibly cliche and may make you cringe at parts.

Sam was on a phone call with “Bobby” for a new job, Dean was thumping at a jukebox, and CJ was typing away at her computer with two coffees down and a half of a muffin still on her plate.

“No-no-no, you’re right, it’s definitely weird,” Sam sighed, “Okay Bobby, thanks.”

“What’s up?” Dean gruffed, giving up with the machine once he saw his brother pocket the device in his hand. “Oh,” Sam sighed, tapping his fingers quickly against his laptop as he pulled up the details Bobby had given him. “Bobby found something in Wyoming.”

“A job?” Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling briefly at his meal before moving to unwrap and enjoy his burger. “Maybe,” Sam sighed, eyebrows furrowed. “Small town, no one’s died in the past week and a half.”

“That so unusual?” Dean mumbled around a bite of his burger, jumping a bit when CJ cursed sharply, and started to slam her fingers against her keys. “What the Hell- CJ-” he saw the earbuds in her ears, and gave up on that immediately. If she had music on, something important was going down. 

He looked at Sam with a raise of his eyebrows, and the brunette shook his head before tapping the screen with his index finger, clearly confused. “Well, it’s  _ how _ they’re not dying.. Uhm.. one guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice. Another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch.”

“Capped in the ass?” Dean takes another bite, and Sam rolls his eyes, ignoring the comment.

“Police say Mr Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a 9mm.”

“And he’s not a donut?”

“Locals are saying it’s a miracle.”

Dean nodded his head, before going back to his food. “Okay.”

Sam grimaced, seeing his brother’s nonplussed expression and shutting his laptop quickly. “It’s gotta be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something?”

“It’s Alistair.”

Dean stopped eating, and Sam turned to look at her quickly when she slowly shut the laptop with a click. She looked spooked. “CJ,” he murmured, “What’s wrong?”

“I met a smartass kid..” she murmured, fingers white and tense as they pressed into the table, “She just… I.. I don’t know how to handle this right now, this was my first real girl crush after Velma Dinkley from Scooby Doo and Abby Sciuto from NCIS..”

“What?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her pale face, “You said something about Alistair, and then.. Velma Dinkley?”

“Dude, give her a minute,” Dean murmured, setting down his burger and wiping his hands on his napkin. “CJ, do you know this girl?”

“You meet her, later.. Iike.. years from now.. And she’s like the little sister you never had..” CJ whispered, her eyes flicking around her hands, seeing them vaguely shaking before she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.. I need to make a call..”

“Be careful,” Dean groused, sighing when she had left through the door and moving to put her things in her bag. It was Alistair, meaning they would be booking ass to fix the fucking problem.

* * *

“Gabe, I just talked to  _ her _ .. She was trying to hack into my computer and the duck-thing kicked in.”

“ _ Breathe. Sugar, breathe.. Do you have any M&M’s on you _ ..”

“Yeah..”

“ _ Eat them. Now _ .”

“Okay..”

“ _ One at a time. Chew slow _ .”

“Okay..”

“ _ Are you eating them _ ?”

“M-hmm..”

“ _ Okay, now, are you sure it was Charlie _ ?”

“Yesh,” she swallowed, then sniffed, her entire body tense and strung-out, “What do I do, what do I say, I’ve got maybe twenty minutes before she gets through the labyrinth coding. Less if she’s as good as she was in the first vision.”

“ _ Okay, first off, you need to breathe. She has absolutely nothing to do with Leviathans, or Dick Roman, or the Steins, or anything else right now. She’s perfectly safe _ .”

“Right, safe. Like the Apocalypse isn’t happening right the fuck now..”

“ _ CJ, breathe _ ..”

“I don’t want to hurt her, Gabe. I really, really don’t because this was like, the first girl I actually considered myself bi for. After that, it was figuring out gender didn’t even bother me, she’s my gateway sexuality, Gabe-! There’s history there-! It’s  _ weird- _ !”

“ _ Breathe, CJ-! Do I need to be there right now? I can be there with you _ .”

“Please no, the boys are within rock-throwing distance.”

“ _ Perfect distance to be _ .”

“Gabe-!”

“ _ Okay, okay, I’ll behave. But I got you to smile _ .”

“Damn you,” she grumbled, silently proving his claim and ducking her head with a groan, “Man, this is so weird.. I thought I might see her after breaking into her apartment, not.. Through a computer.. What are those odds, even?”

“ _ Prime _ ,” he grinned.

“Stop it,” she grunted.

“ _ Just talk to her, get to know her. Gently, in a non-stalkerish way _ .”

“Have you met me?”

“ _ Yeah, you’re right, this might be a bit difficult _ .”

“Gabriel, I swear to cheese in a can-!”

“ _ Cheese in a can _ -” He was laughing loudly from the other end, and CJ could only sit in silence as she waited for him to finish.

Her phrases were so.. Odd..

She refused to use God’s name at all.

“Fuck it. I need more M&Ms..”

* * *

CJ was lounging in the back seat, having been witness to Dean scrubbing the Holy Hell out of it, quite literally, and much to his dry, joking laughter at her off-the-shoulder comment, before the leather-rag had been thrown at her face. She was typing away at her computer quickly, headphones over her ears, and music blaring as she pulled up the customised chat screen. Only two screens on the entire planet would ever see that chat box.

_ Hermione is active _

_ Morning Star is active. _

Holy shit she was going to have an aneurysm..

_ Hermione: So to what do I owe the pleasure? _

_ Morning Star: I am so, SO SORRY about the duck thing.. It automatically kicks in when people touch my private files.. Speaking of, who hired you? _

_ Hermione: I am not at liberty to say. _

_ Hermione: And it’s cool. It took a few minutes and the song is ringing in my head, but it was a good setup. _

_ Morning Star: Got any grapes? _

_ Hermione: Never again. _

_ Morning Star: Forgive me, it was one of the most annoying things I could find other than Lamb Chops.. _

_ Morning Star: And I couldn’t put myself through that torture long enough to set up the algorithm.. _

_ Morning Star: So Hermione? Harry Potter? _

_ Hermione: Problem? _

_ Morning Star: So long as you don’t Avada Kedavra my ass for only reading the books. _

_ Hermione: So are you a Potterhead or are you obsessed with something else? _

Take a leap, or no?

..No.

_ Morning Star: I’m in the middle of a long-term job right now so down-time isn’t really an option, but I love a bit of LARPing when I can. _

_ Hermione: My kind of genderless peer. _

_ Morning Star: I’m female. And I’m taking it you are, too? I get the vibe. _

_ Hermione: Sharp eye.  _

_ Hermione: So what’s with the chatbox? _

_ Morning Star: Figured you’d want an ultra-secure connection to talk through. I have no interest in finding you, I just need to know who set you up to find those files. Those are classified for a reason. _

That’s it, keep it casual.

_ Hermione: I can’t really say.. _

Be gentle.

_ Morning Star: I AM part of the FBI, you know. If you’re in danger, you can tell me, and I’ll set up a unit for witness protection. _

_ Hermione: Seems a bit far for someone you don’t know. _

_ Morning Star: You can’t be over twenty. You’re using Harry Potter references, and my glimpse at your desktop had me thinking Dungeons, Dragons, Star Wars and Avengers girl. _

_ Hermione: And you didn’t want to take a look at me? _

_ Morning Star: Outside of my jobs, I respect people’s privacy.  _

_ Morning Star: Now stop avoiding it. Are you in danger? _

_ Hermione is typing.. _

This was the most nerve-racking fucking thing in her entire existence.

_ Hermione: No. I’m fine. Perfectly safe and cool. _

CJ felt her bitchface set in, and she bit back a sigh as she started typing.

_ Morning Star: You did it for fun, didn’t you? _

_ Hermione: Can you blame a girl for trying? _

_ Morning Star: It’s one of the most well-kept, protected secrets in the entire government, sweetheart. Sorry but I’m not giving you those passcodes. Your computer doesn’t even have the software to handle it. _

_ Hermione: Try me. _

“And it’s times like this that I am glad I developed my own computer software in high school,” CJ smiled. “Thank you, Federal Bureau. And my dear cousin Wisteria, too, of course..”

“What are you smiling about?” Sam raised an eyebrow, and CJ gave him a pout before she turned back to her laptop, “Nothing.. Just chatting.. With a girl.. About girl things..”

“Cute girl?” Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at her in the mirror when CJ went almost completely red. “Let me guess.. Nerdy redhead?”

“..Yeah..”

“Wow,” Sam murmured, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “Seriously?”

“And she’s lesbian,” CJ whispered, looking down at her laptop with a childish, happy sort of reverence. “Dude.. I am in  _ awe _ ..”

“Don’t get too psyched up,” Dean warned her, parent-mode on with a stern expression on his face, “This ‘chick’ for all you know could be some grungy old man in his mom’s basement.”

“I saw her apartment through her camera,” CJ shrugged, “She’s into Marvel, Dungeons and Dragons, Harry Potter, and Star Wars. Plus she wears beanies, bright colors and she dances to music when no one is watching.”

“Creepy..” Dean grumbled.

“Dean,” CJ sat up then, lowering the lid of her computer so she could shoot the Winchester a slow, expressionless stare. “I  _ see _ her.. In my visions.. If I’m meeting her like this, now.. Then I’ve already got a leg up on a lot of shit..”

“ _ Oh.. _ ”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ .”

* * *

“Now, you three said you were bloggers..?”

“Yes sir, flooredbythelord.com,” Sam nodded politely, CJ spinning her laptop around from beside him to show the newly minted webpage (That hadn’t existed more than an hour) to the confused man.

“All of God’s glory, fit to blog,” Dean smiled dashingly. CJ only smiled, her hand under the table being very intensive as it worked on a stress ball. Sam took note of her smile, and glanced down, seeing the ball and quickly bringing his focus back to the case with a clear of his throat. “Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle..”

“It was,” the man nodded, nonplussed, “Plain as day.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and the man could only smile in exhilarated bafflement. “How else do you explain it? The doctors can’t. There’s a bullet in my heart and it’s pumping like a piston.”

“Well how do  _ you _ explain it?” Dean asked, the smile less so there, though it was hanging on by a thread. CJ managed to give a love-tap to his foot, making him sit up straighter.

“Look,” the guy murmured, after glancing into the kitchen, his expression turning solemn. “Honestly, I was nobody’s saint.. Not exactly Father of the Year, either..”

“Okay?” Dean shook his head, trying to find a point. The man nodded, and continued.

“But when that guy shot me and I didn’t bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance.”

“Is that so?” Dean smiled.

Another tap. He adjusted in his seat, and flicked his eyes to see CJ glaring at him, before giving a wider, more believable smile.

“I had this feeling,” the man murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, “Like angels were watching over me.”

CJ winced, the ball had almost broke.

“I don’t expect you guys to understand,” The man shrugged, his face solemn as he chanced another look into the kitchen.

“Well,” Dean murmured, his smile a bit more believable, but still watered down, “We’ll just have to try.”

“Oh, honey..” CJ whispered, not being able to help the wince that surfaced as her nails broke the stress ball, and dug into her palm, “ _ Sugar-honey-ice-tea-  _ Whoopsie,” she held up the stress ball for a moment, seeing the tear her fingers and strength had made before tucking it into her pocket. “Well, this was a lovely chat, and I can’t wait to post it-! Any final questions boys? I’d like to get started on the article  _ asap _ ..” she gave both boy’s a firm nudge with her foot, and they sat up straighter, but didn’t get up quite yet.

“You wouldn’t have happened to swing by a crossroads in the past week or so, would you?” Sam asked politely. The man looked between the three with confusion, before shaking his head. “No.”

“Well, that’s good, those things are usually bad luck,” CJ got to her feet directly this time, and put a firm hand on both of their shoulders, hauling them up with surprising ease. Though by the looks on their faces, they were more than a little startled by the sudden surge of strength. “I wish you a blessed day, Sir, but we really should be going. We’ve scheduled to pay our respects to the local ministers.”

“Well it was.. A pleasure,” the man nodded, taking her outstretched hand and giving a few shakes before shaking Sam’s, then Dean’s, and moving to lead them out of the house.

* * *

“Sam, that was  _ not _ subtle,” CJ snapped once they had gotten into the car. He shot her a look back, but it was much less fiery than hers. “We do not need people glaring at us around town, need I remind you it is a  _ small _ town, and that people  _ talk _ , and I guarantee, in two hours, over half of the population is going to know a trio of lunatics are asking crazy questions-! Sam, Alistair is somewhere in this town-! And we do  _ not _ need to draw attention to ourselves-!”

She took quick, heavy breaths then, and there was a fear in her eyes that had both boys stop whatever arguments they had on the tip of her tongue. The last time she looked like that was..

* * *

_ Jack, Michelle, an unborn baby and Batya.. _

_ Jack, Michelle, an unborn baby and Batya.. _

_ Jack, Michelle, an unborn baby and Batya.. _

_ Jack, Mi- _

* * *

“CJ-!” a person was shaking her, hard by the shoulders. She blinked slowly out of her daze, feeling the tears, hot and burning, drip down the sides of her face..

Dean..

Dean was shaking her.

“CJ, you need to stop- can you hear me, CJ-? Say something,” Dean demanded, pausing his shaking to use both hands to grab her face by her cheeks. They were cold, and her tears were hot. “If you can hear me, I need you to pinch me.”

“You want me to.. Punch you..?” she murmured, her eyebrows furrowing as she gripped the man’s forearms. He was breathing normally now, his eyes closing in relief as he pressed their foreheads together. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You.. you really need some sort of alarm system, or something..”

“Sorry..” she whispered, feeling her eyes droop shut as her panic gradually, and slowly subsided. “Kickback..”

* * *

“You are going to bed,” he grumbled, moving to pull her out of the car and towards her own. She would still drive Cleo from hunt-to-hunt for emergencies, but the majority of the in-town driving was done by Dean in Baby.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding slowly as she went into Cleo’s trunk. Sam was getting a room for them at the first motel in the phone book.

Habits.

Habits.. Calming, weren’t they..? 

_ ‘Whenever you're stressed, Disney songs are the way to go,’ _ her cousin Aurora's voice echoed almost sternly in the back of her mind. 

Oh, Hell...

Why not..?

“ _ Days in the sun..” _ she sang softly, her eyes fluttering shut as she closed the motel room door. Dean was getting ice. Five minutes of alone time..  _ “Days.. in the ..sun.. _ How did it...  go..?  _ When.. my life ...had.. Barely begun.. Not until my whole life.. is done.. Will I ever leave~ you..” _

She nodded slowly as she inhaled, then relaxed with a sigh. 

‘ _ Always start slow, but don't be afraid to get up and dance. Keep your eyes shut, though. You need to keep calm and knowing you people watching you dance has the opposite effect.’ _

She could focus on something else.

_ “Days in the sun.. When my life had barely begun.. Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you..”  _ Her bag hit the floor, and her back bounced on the bed, her eyes fluttering shut as she lied out sprawled, like a starfish. “.. _ Will I tremble again.. To my dear one’s gorgeous refrain..? Will you now, forever, remain.. Out of reach of my arms..? All those days in the sun.. what I’d give to relive, just one.. undo what’s done, and bring back the light~..” _

Dean’s hand hovered over the doorknob of the room, swallowing silently as CJ’s voice drifted through the door. It was sweet, and soothing..

Like it had been that one morning..

“ _ Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark.. Days.. bring.. The spell we’re under.. Still it’s the wonder of us, I sing of, tonight.. ..How in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love endure..? I was.. Innocent and certain. Now I’m wiser, but unsure. _ .”

Dean turned the knob slowly, being sure not to make a single, creaking sound as he opened it to slide inside, eyes locked silently on the girl lying across the nearest bed. Her eyes were closed, thank God.

“ _ I can’t go back into my childhood.. One that my father made secure.. I can feel a change in me- I’m stronger now but still not free~.. Days in the sun~.. Will return we must~ believe~.. As lovers~ do~.. That days in the sun, will come shining~ through~..” _

Dean watched slowly as she took a deep, heaving breath, before starting again, this time with a faintly familiar, rhythmic hum. He slowly backed up a bit, silently setting the bucket of ice on the end table as she sat up, and got to her feet, her eyes hazy as she set her arms out and pointed a single toe, before she started to slowly twirl.

She was dancing..

“ _ I was the one who had it all~.. I was the master of my fate~.. I never needed anybody in my life.. I learned the truth much too late~.. _ ” Her body dipped and twirled, and he found his eyes trailing after as she weaved between and around the beds. She was..  _ Something _ ..

“ _ I’ll never shake away the pain~.. I close my eyes, but she’s still there~.. I let her steal into my melancholy heart~.. It’s more than I, can bear~”  _ He watched her spin and sweep out her legs, as if she were dancing with a partner, one arm raised around an invisible shoulder, the other held out for an absent hand. “ _ Now I know, she’ll never~ leave me~.. Even as she runs away~” _

Didn’t that sound familiar..?

“ _S_ _ he will still torment me-” _

She has-

_ “Calm me-” _

She does-

_ “Hurt me-” _

Every day-

_ “Move me-” _

Like this-

_ "Come what may~” _

_ All of it.. _

_ “Wasting in my lonely tower.. Waiting by an open door~ _ ” she swept her arms out as if she were spun, and wound herself back in with her arms crossed around her stomach, swaying in the rhythm with her back to the door, and Dean, “ _ I’ll fool myself she’ll walk right in.. and be with me forever more~” _ She swung herself out with her invisible partner then, and Dean’s feet itched with the urge to walk forward, to take her hand and grab her waist. He’d never danced like that before, but seeing her spin herself around the room as if she were in a grand castle..

He really wanted to sweep her along a marble floor.. It was such a weird, foreign feeling..

“ _ I rage against the trials of love, I curse the fading of the light~”  _ she started spinning on her own, then, one hand held up toward the ceiling and the other holding the skirt of an invisible gown, “ _ Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach, she’s never out, of sight~ _

“ _ And I know, she’ll never leave me _ ~ _ Even as she fades from view~ _ !”

He watched her come to a crescendo, her arms thrown out as if pleading to God and her knees looking ready to buckle as she bowed forward, head thrown back and hair askew as she poured her heart out. 

His feet were silent on the carpet as he inched forward.

“ _ She will still inspire me-! Be apart of everything I do~!” _

She fell to her knees then, fists clenching into the stomach of her shirt, and he froze as he gripped the wall divider between the beds and the door harshly, his knuckles white with the strain to keep from going further,  _ “Wasting in my lonely tower.. _ ” Her voice gradually became softer, more soothing, “ _ Waiting.. By an open door.. I’ll fool myself she’ll walk right in..” _

It was as if he could hear the heartbreak in her words.

“ _ And as the long-long nights begin..” _

The nights she was gone passed like decades..

“ _ I’ll think of all that might have been..” _

Dreams of her laughter, and her smile, brushed the forefront of his mind.. Her soothing rendition of Hey Jude as she brought him out of his horrendous memories..

“ _ Waiting here for.. Ever.. moooooooore~!” _

He had the vague thought to ask where she stored enough air to carry the note on for so long, but his central thought process was wiped clear with only the need to relax, to step forward and-

“Holy  _ shit-  _ DEAN-! What the Hell-?! How long have you been-”

A thump was heard, and she felt thick, warm arms wrapping around her torso, the thud from Dean’s knees hitting the carpet making her wince a bit, but relax when she felt the way he was tugging her closer, his face buried into her shoulder, pressing against her neck.

He didn’t say a word.

_ Well shit, what did she do..? _

Slowly, and cautiously, she brought her hands up to rest on his back, gently rubbing into the taut skin there and frowning when he tensed, then gradually relaxed.

“You need a chiropractor,” she whispered. He breathed heavily against her skin, the hot exhale from his lips sending a shiver down her spine before he was burrowing further into her embrace, hiding his eyes in the curtain of her hair. One of his hands came up to entwine in the short, fluffed strands at the back of her head, his other arm pressing her tighter to his torso as he tried to soak in the warmth in front of him.

“Will you keep singing..?” he asked softly. His eyes were glassy, and he looked so tired. CJ blinked slowly, and swallowed, lifting a hand up to pull his face from her shoulder. He pulled back quickly, thinking she wanted him off, and was more than a little surprised when she got to her feet and started hauling him up before moving to sit him on the bed, his back to the headboard, as she curled up to his side, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He inhaled quickly when she took his hand, palm up as she brought it in the air between them, and began tracing the lines on it, calluses and scars getting soft, gentle brushes as she felt him sit unsure beside her.

“ _ Tale as old as time.. True as it can be..” _

He felt his muscles relaxing with the soothing lilt to her voice, his eyes unconsciously fluttering shut as he felt the tips of her fingers continue inspecting his palm. 

“ _ Barely even friends.. Then somebody bends.. Unexpectedly.. _ ” She shifted her head from his shoulder so she was sitting upright, but her torso stayled pressed to his side, their thighs and calves touching lightly above the duvet. “ _ Just a little change.. Small to say the least.. Both a little scared.. Neither one prepared.. Beauty and the beast.. _ ” His fingers curled a bit as she started tracing the outline of his fingers. “ _ Ever just the same.. Ever a surprise.. Ever as before.. Ever just as sure.. As the sun will rise.. Tale as old as time… Tune as old as song.. Bittersweet and strange.. Finding you can change.. Learning you were wrong.. Certain as the sun.. rising in the east.. Tale as old as time.. Song as old as rhyme.. Beauty and the beast.. Tale as old as time.. Song as old as rhyme.. Beauty and.. The.. beast _ ..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CJ and the boys are going through some serious shit, aren't they?
> 
> Should I.. maybe.. be a little nicer..?
> 
> Hmm..
> 
> Tis' a thought.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, leave a kudos and a comment, I love to hear from you all. :)
> 
> ~Pistol


	76. Chapter 76

When Sam had returned to the room later that day, he had been more than a little surprised to see Dean and CJ locked in an intense match of what looked like poker.

“I just can’t win with you. I fold,” CJ’s head hit the table with a thunk, and Dean grinned as he swiped the pile of candy in the center of the table to his side.

Sam raised an eyebrow, shutting the door a bit loudly so they would turn their heads toward him. Since their last little blow-out session, Dean actually looked..

Rejuvenated.

Like, he’d either had great sex, great pie, or some other instantaneous miracle to give him ten years of lost sleep.

He was a bit wary to ask which of the three it was.

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling the keys from his pocket and tossing them to Dean when he held out his hand. “Find anything?” the elder Winchester asked smoothly.

“Cancer survivor,” Sam nodded, moving to walk up to stand behind CJ’s chair, looking over the ridiculously bum hand of cards before rolling his eyes and continuing. “He was clinically dead. His wife pulled the plug and now he’s taking her out for their 20th anniversary.”

“Any sign of a deal?” Dean raised an eyebrow. It was more out of habit to ask now. They knew it was Alistair, but until they knew what was actually going on, there wasn’t anything they could do. CJ merely dinked around with her remaining candy. By the way she was sadly eying his rather large pile of sweets, he gave pity on her by returning the M&Ms. She perked up immediately, and he felt a bit of himself warm at the smile on her face as she passed him the rest of her snickers and Musketeers.

“No,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. He glanced at the quick, silent exchange, but brushed it off, and continued, “What about you, find anyone dying around here?”

“Not since Cole Griffith,” Dean shook his head, reaching across the table to show his brother the screen of CJ’s laptop, where a newspaper article they’d drug up. “He died ten days ago. He was the last death we could find.”

“So, what are you thinking?” Sam asked quietly, “What seal do you think it is?”

“Research, Lucky,” CJ piped up, “Why don’t you look a little harder at the circumstances going on around you? The souls.. In the words of Dean Winchester-” said brother shot her a look, and she shrugged, “-Just ain’t getting dragged to the light’.”

“When did I say that?” Dean frowned.

“Well, I kind of stole the line,” she smiled sheepishly. He rolled his eyes, and shook his head, before unwrapping a Snickers bar and giving a snapping crunch to dismiss the comment. Sam’s head was already turning, thoughts racing as he took her words deeply and fit them in different places.

“Maybe because there’s no one around to carry ‘em..”

“Ding-Ding-Ding,” CJ smiled. “And we have a winner..”

“Wait, wait,” Dean protested, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Grim Reapers, that’s what they do, right? Schlepp souls? So if Death ain’t in town..”

“Then nobody’s dying..” Dean finished. “So what, is the local reaper on strike, or is Alistair to blame?”

“Alistair has him locked somewhere,” CJ nodded, “But.. he needs another reaper.. And there’s only one place the next reaper will be at a certain time for sure..”

“Two reapers?” Sam repeated, dumbfounded, “How do you kill two reapers, can it even be done once?”

“With Death’s scythe, you can,” CJ nodded calmly, “And with an angel blade, including a spell. Demon blade’s don’t work because of Reaper’s balanced personalities I’m guessing.”

“That’s just..” Dean grumbled, sighing before a pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Well, what are we supposed to be doing tonight?”

“Summoning Cole at his grave,” CJ smiled sheepishly. “Or.. trying to..”

“Dare I ask..?” Sam gave a chuckle, but it was strained and unsure.

“I wouldn’t,” CJ murmured.

“Alistair.” Dean quipped.

“Dean,” CJ said suddenly, and he sat up straighter when she reached across the table and grabbed his hand that had fisted around the empty snickers wrapper. He looked at her with sudden concern, but her next words had him stunned to silence. “I am very, very proud of you for keeping yourself together like this, and I swear to.. Well.. Amara. That I won’t let that sick son of a bitch ruin any part of your family. Okay?”

“Does he?” he raised, his hand flipping between hers and grasping tightly as panic shone in his eyes.

“In my original vision, someone close to you died,” she admit slowly, seeing the panic in his eyes and squeezing harder. “Hey-! What did I just say-? What did I just promise-?”

“You wouldn’t let Alistair.. Ruin a part of my family..”

“Right,” CJ nodded firmly, and he took a long, lingering look at her sure expression, before he gradually, minutely relaxed. “I’ve thought about how to prevent the death, but you’re gonna hate it..”

“Dare I ask?” Sam repeated, though his voice was a bit louder this time.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Alright.” Dean squeezed her hand a firm, final time, before letting her go and bringing his hands to his face. “What do we do?”

“You need to go set up a ritual at Cole’s grave tonight to summon him” CJ nodded softly, “We’ll go from there when you get back.”

* * *

CJ had been told to stay in the room, and when she didn’t protest, Dean ruffled her hair on his way out. She waited until he was gone to fix it.

She kept the time it would take to get them back there to be roughly forty-five minutes to an hour, so she settled herself in the talk with Charlie.

_Morning Star: Yo girl, you available?_

She waited maybe eight minutes before she got a response.

_Hermione is active._

_Hermione: Hey, what’s up?_

_Morning Star: Nothing much, mission stuff. I need to decompress. Want to talk nerd stuff?_

_Hermione: I’d be honored._

CJ smiled.

* * *

The second Dean had come in clutching his head, CJ had put the ice over the spot after prying away his palm. There was a cut beneath his hand, a shallow one, though it was a bit bloody, but there was also a bump.

Testimony to the migraine CJ was sporting.

“I think you have a concussion,” she whispered softly, careful not to upset his head while she gently carded her fingers through the rest of his hair. He was sprawled along his bed, lying on his back while she kneeled by the headboard, her fingers gently soothing the creases of his face and subtly flitting to knead at his shoulders.

It felt too good to move.

Sam came in a few minutes after she’d convinced him to roll to his front, his shirt taken off in the confusion and a pillow placed beneath his chest.

Seeing CJ astride his brother’s backside was a bit jarring to walk into, but from a soft, muffled groans coming from the pillow Dean had moved to shield his face, he could take a guess at what was going on. “How you doing?”

CJ stopped her ministrations, and Dean let out a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a short whine, before lifting his head to give his brother a bitch face. “I’m in pain, that’s how I’m doing. _Ughh.._ I think I have a concussion,” CJ nodded slowly along with Dean’s quip, her own head pounding, but soothing as she gestured to move the ice to the right a bit. Her lips stayed pressed tightly together.

“You need some aspirin?” Sam asked.

“No thanks, House,” Dean grunted, wiggling a bit, despite CJ sitting on his tailbone, to get her off. He sat up then, on his knees, and leveled his brother with a calm, but serious look. “What the Hell happened with Alistair back there?”

CJ hadn’t said a word to either of them.

Sam didn’t know if that was good or not.

“I told you,” Sam sighed, making sure the door was shut behind him before walking further into the room, coffee much needed for the next conversation. “He tried to fling me or whatever, and when he couldn’t he bailed.”

“So how come he couldn’t fling you,” Dean grunted, lifting a hand to put the ice back to his temple after a sharp swat from CJ from behind. “He chucked you pretty good last time.”

Sam shrugged, turning back to give his brother an unsure expression as he did so. “Got no idea.”

Dean blinked quickly, took a deep breath, and lowered the ice to his lap. “Sam, do me a favor?”

Sam stopped reaching for the coffee grounds, and flicked his eyes to his brother at the tone of his voice.

Dean shook his head, his voice done. “If you’re going to keep your little secrets, I can’t really stop you. But, just don’t treat me like an idiot. Okay?”

“What, Dean? I’m not keeping secrets,” Sam defended quickly.

“Mhmm,” Dean hummed, nodding a bit before he brought the ice back up. CJ was pressing her head into a smaller bag. He would be glad when the headache disappeared. “Whatever, so, did you go back and Q-and-A the dead kid?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sam shook his head, holding up the brown leather book he’d been carrying for both of the now curious people on the bed to see, “Bobby called. He did some digging,” CJ snorted, and the boys paused, seeing the pensive look on her face as she eyed the book.

“What is it?” Dean asked softly.

“You’ll find out after we rescue your fling,” CJ sniffed, shooting the confused man a smile before waving her hand at Sam. “Continue, please. Ignore my interruption.”

Dean sighed, nodding, and gestured as well toward the pensive, taller brunette. “And?”

“He thinks I’m right,” Sam sniffed, taking a seat on the edge of his bed so he could face the duo he travelled with. There was a lift to his voice. Both CJ and Dean knew he loved hearing the words. “Local Reaper’s gone. Not just gone- kidnapped.”

“By Alistair,” Dean sighed, lifting a hand to cover his eyes before quickly shaking his head. “Seal?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam nodded, flipping the book open to the right page before he began reading it off. “Listen to this.. _And he bloodied Death under the newborn sky. Sweet to taste- but bitter when once devoured._ ”

“Swanky,” Dean scoffed, “Then what the hell’s that mean?”

“Well,” Sam murmured, fixing the leather strap back in place to mark the page, “It’s from a very obscure, very arcane version of revelations.”

“Which means what I think it means?”

“Basically, you kill a Reaper under the Solstice moon- tomorrow night, by the way- you got yourself a broken seal.”

“But it takes two to break the seal, right?” Dean murmured, glancing at CJ and catching her agreeing nod. She’d even smiled a bit at him.

“Where the Hell are the angels is what I want to know,” Sam sighed, playing with the book in his hands, “We could use a little help for once.” CJ spoke up again. “They’re floating around. It’s another test for you two.”

“Great,” Dean whispered, sarcasm thick as he reached for his discarded ice pack, “Looks like we’re gonna have to take care of this one ourselves, then..”

“What are we gonna do?” Sam scoffed, “Just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reapers?”

“You got a better idea I’m all ears,” Dean offered.

“Dean, Reapers are invisible,” Sam pointed out, a tad slowly, so his concussed brother could understand, “The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying.”

“Well,” Dean murmured, “If ghosts are the only ones who can see ‘em..”

“Yeah,” Sam prodded, seeing his brother nod a bit before pressing the ice in a different spot over the bump.

“..Then we become ghosts,” Deans mumbled, letting his eyes flicker closed as he adjusted his seat on the bed.

Sam inhaled, seeing his brother’s shaky smile, and shook his head. “You _do_ have a concussion.”

“Sounds crazy, I know,” Dean grinned.

That was a line CJ recognized, and she threw her arms around the brother with a squeal. “Don’t you ever, ever, _ever_ think you’re not a genius-! You’re concussed and you came up with that-!”

“I’m lost,” Sam murmured after a moment, seeing the surprised expression on his brother’s face as he tried to maneuver an arm to get around her and haul her up to sit beside him. She didn’t stop hugging him, a bright smile on her face, despite the fact he was shirtless.

Well, until she’d opened her eyes, looked at the bare skin of his brother’s chest and bolted away.

Sam started laughing as she fumbled over the side of the bed, hitting the ground with a huff while both he and his brother scurried to make sure she hadn’t snapped her neck.

“I’m good..” she whispered, hands over her eyes and a burning blush on her face, “I’m good..”

“Need a little help there?” Dean asked.

“I think I’m good for a few minutes,” she whispered.

“Suit yourself,” Sam shrugged.


	77. Chapter 77

CJ was attached to Pamela’s hip the second she entered the motel room, Sam having stayed behind to allow Dean to go, but Dean not wanting his brother alone in a town Alistair presided in.

CJ had no problem staying, it was the several hours he was gone that had her knee jumpy and her fingers tied in knots. Sam took another long look around the room. There were sigils on the walls, painted in black and red ink, spray painted into the carpet were devils traps, one in front of every door and window, with rings of salt spread out around each bed, and a battalion of holy water guns laid out on one of the beds. 

Sam sat beside CJ on the free bed, Dean’s bed, and shook her foot with excess energy, and Sam put a hand on her shoulder to calm her while she shivered.

_ A person close to you.. _

“It’s supposed to be Pamela, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

She jerked in place, held still by invisible ice, and he inhaled deeply, and slowly, before letting out a sigh, and nodding. “I trust you, CJ. You know what you’re doing,” he murmured, giving her a reassuring squeeze before pulling his arm around her shoulder and pressing her to his side.

Cue Pamela, and CJ’s freakout to hug her.

“Woah-there,” the raven coughed, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly before patting the back of her head. “Hiya Sunshine. How you been? I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Sam tilted his head.

“I check in with Pamela every other week or so,” CJ mumbled, lifting a hand to fix the woman’s bangs a bit, with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve had more than a few complications with my health and psych in the last few weeks than many.”

“It’s alright, Doll,” she sighed, lifting a hand to run it through the girl’s shorter hair as well. “I’m just worried is all.” 

“You’re like the sexy, amazing aunt I’ve always wanted,” CJ whispered suddenly, earning a loud, full-bodied laugh from the visually impaired woman before she was swept into a tight, bone-crushing hug. “Oh Doll, we’re family at this point, anyway-! I might as well be-!”

CJ inhaled the spicy, warm scent of the woman for a moment, before she nodded, and tucked herself into Pamela’s neck.

She could enjoy it.

Just for a few more seconds..

* * *

“How do we know CJ’s not gonna black out during this like last time?” Sam asked when they were told to lie out on the beds. Pamela paused, thinking about it, before a frown flitted across her face. “I.. don’t know.”

It was silently agreed she would stay behind with Pamela.

“Uhm..” CJ hummed, reaching up a hand to provide input, then pointing at her bag, “I could just.. Put on headphones..?”

“That could work,” Pamela shrugged, watching as she hurried to open her bag and retrieve the ridiculously bright eyesores. “Jeez, girl, did they not have the ones made of light bulbs?”

“Hush,” CJ grumbled, a flush of red painting her face as she looked away, “S’my favorite shade of purple..”

“Well,” Pam sighed, clapping her hands before folding her arms across her chest, a bit of a sour note coming to her voice as she tilted her head. “Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?” 

“Yo,” Dean admit gruffly after a moment of awkward silence. Pamela scoffed, shaking her head as she looked away. “Of course, Chachi.”

Sam and CJ both snorted, already knowing the definition, but Dean mouthed the word to his brother in confusion, only receiving an innocent shoulder shrug in response.

“So let’s be clear,” Pamela cut into the moment loudly, and both boys stood straight to attention at her pale, piercing stare. 

They nearly shivered.

“You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world?”

“Mhmm,” Dean nodded, tongue in cheek as the woman in front of them started to pace in obvious frustration. 

“Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?”

“Maybe,” Dean admit after a second, “But that’s where the reaper is,  _ so _ ..”

“So, it’s nuts,” Pam scoffed, shaking her head a final time before leaning onto the footboard of the bed lined in weapons, “and judging by this..  _ Sweet _ ,” the sarcasm on the word had CJ wincing, “ _ setup  _ you have going on here.. You three know that, too.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing,” Dean shrugged, hopefully. 

“You  _ don’t _ know what you’re doing,” Pamela deadpanned.

“No,” Dean nodded, “But  _ you _ do..”

“Yeah,  _ I _ do,” Pamela nodded firmly, pointing at him almost sternly before folding her hand back beneath her arms, “And guess what, I’m.. I’m  _ sick _ of being hauled back into your angel-demon soc-greaser crap-!”

“Look, I’d love to be kicking back a cold one watching Judge Judy, too,” Dean cut in, more firmly, and, he admit, a bit annoyed, “but we’re talking the end of the world here, okay? No more.. Tassled leather pants, no more Ramone CD’s. No more nothing.”

“Dean,” CJ’s quip had him stopping, and he blinked a bit as he looked over to the brunette, seeing her fiddling anxiously with one of the straps of the water guns. “Calm down.. Please..”

He blinked slowly at her, before closing his eyes, and giving a dip of his head, lifting both of his hands up into his hair and running his fingers through the soft, blonde locks before letting them fall back to his side, and releasing a pent-up breath. “Alright, alright. I’m calm.”

“You win, Dean,” CJ called softly, her eyes gentle as he spared her another look. “You guys always win. Even if you lose a few battles, this one you definitely win. Just.. follow your gut, okay? That’s what gets you Winchesters out of every damned mess you’ve ever been in before..”

He breathed heavily for a second, the silence in the room heavy before he nodded, took another deep, cleansing breath, before turning his eyes back to Pamela.

“We need your help.”

* * *

Sam was instructed with closing the curtains to block light while Dean was told to light the candles CJ had procured. Pamela and said girl sat huddled on the left bed while they waited for them to finish, the older woman rubbing her thumbs over CJ’s wrists in a rhythmic way as she hummed beneath her breath.

“It’s like touching a smooth glass jar,” she whispered finally, letting CJ retrieve one of her wrists back while she continued to soothe the other one.

Her fingers were tracing out a familiar, long swipe of skin from CJ’s first few months in the institution. There was no scar or mark to be seen left behind, but Pamela could still  _ feel _ the infliction to the area.

Like CJ had wanted to remember.

“Scratched,” the raven whispered as she stopped, holding the girl’s hands tightly now between both of hers. More in an act of comfort than the searching held before it. “Scratched glass..”

“Sorry,” CJ sighed through her nose, closing her eyes as she ducked her head forward. “Those were some pretty dark days..”

“I can tell,” she murmured, patting the girl almost gently on the hand before getting up, and swatting at the girl motherly to do the same. “Alright, let’s get this train-wreck over with.”

CJ nodded, and moved to grab her journal and a candy bar.

“Tell me something geniuses, even if you break into the veil and you find the reaper,” Moving to sit back against one of the tables, Pamela leaned over and swiped one of the packets of M&M’s piled in the center. “How you gonna save it?” Dean looked ready to say something about losing a finger if she touched CJ’s stash, but said girl was already moving to pull out her IPod.

He’d never seen her that willing to turn a blind eye to candy being swiped.

_ Something was up _ .

He trusted her, he did.

But he also knew her, well enough at least to know when she was swimming in her insecurities and internal anxiety.

“With style and class,” it took him a few seconds to answer Pamela, as his thoughts had strayed, but his snark was still very much there. He’d play along, for now. Pretend he didn’t see the way CJ twitched at every sentence they spoke, eyes darting between them with knowing and recognition.

Pamela scoffed. “You’re going to be two walking pieces of  _ fog _ . Who can’t touch or move anything. You’ll be defenseless, hotshot.”

Sam snorted, “I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of  _ us _ .”

“Yeah,” Pamela sighed, “They had plenty of time to practice.”

“Well, then I guess we gotta start cramming.”

“Wow,” Pamela rolled her pale eyes, the iris rolling around her socket looking a bit more spooky than usual with her sordid sarcasm, “Couple ‘a heros.. Alright,” she finally sighed, pulling a chair up to the foot of the beds, right between them, and sitting down to pat the one on the left firmly, her eyes on the boys hovering further in the room. “Lie down. Close your eyes.”

* * *

“ _ Animum vult decipi ergo decipiatur. _ .” Pamela’s voice was gentle, and soothing, but CJ’s headphones were on full blast as she waited in the bathroom. “ _ Vis, vis, vis..  _ Okay guys,” she called then, ending the chant as she sighed under her breath.  _ Why was she doing this stupid plan again..?  _ “That’s it… Showtime.” She got out of her seat then, moving to open the bathroom door, and peer inside, where CJ was avidly drawing into a leather-bound hunter’s journal.

She looked to be drawing something that had a rough, textured mouth with no skin, or hair, and beady eyes. The top of the page was labelled  _ Siren _ .

CJ lowered her headphones, and hurried into the main room, looking over the boys sprawled on the bed, but locking her eyes on the body double of Dean sitting right next to his KO counterpart.

_ Whatthe-blood-bloodbloodblood-light-blood-light-blood- _

“What the fuck..” CJ whispered, clutching at Pamela’s arm, and feeling the woman’s immediate confusion.. “Shhh- _ hhhhhhh-hhhhh _ .”

Dean grunt, rolling out a kink in his neck before looking toward the two women in the bathroom doorway. “Well, nothing like shooting blanks, huh?” His smile disappeared, and he met the strangely wide, startled hazel eyes of their female companion, “What’s plan ‘B’?”

CJ’s lip twitched, and she clutched her arms instead. She could potentially hurt Pam if she gripped her too tight. “Okay, this is, this is not-.. How am I..?”

“What do you see?” Pamela asked softly. 

“Dean..” she whispered, “I see Dean.. sitting.. On the bed.. And sleeping.. On the bed..”

“What?” the elder brother murmured, furrowing his eyebrows before he glanced to his side, seeing himself sprawled out like a night after a heavy hunt.

He flicked his eyes back, and Sam was standing in the corner, his double in the bed snoozing away peacefully. Sam shrugged, and Dean sniffed, flicking his eyes back to CJ while Sam looked to her, too. He looked a little startled that she could see them, but she looked..

Paler..

She turned around then, her hands flying up to her eyes as she gagged. “Oh fuck.. Oh fuck..” she stumbled for the bathroom, and Pamela hurried to follow her, Sam and Dean hurrying to hustle over, though they had a Hell of a time getting around the salt everywhere.

A bit of an annoyance, now, actually. It was like they bounced into walls when they got too close to the beds, windows, and the table.

CJ was throwing up. Dean tried to step forward, to grab a hold of her, but Pamela was in the way, and his arm passed straight through her. Making him shiver a little, and the woman there to shudder as well, before rolling her eyes, “Really, Dean? Couldn’t of done that  _ in _ your body?”

CJ was still throwing up.

“CJ, honey,” she cooed, holding back what she could of the girl’s hair as she emptied chocolate, burgers, and whatever else she had stored in her stomach out into the toilet in painful retches. “Sweetie, you gotta tell me what’s wrong..”

“They’re bloody.” Her voice was choked, and hoarse, and the tears were streaming down her face in torrents.. “Sam’s.. Sam’s bleeding.. Dean’s.. Dean has.. Dean.. Dean..” her breath was picking up, and she she was throwing up again, choking and coughing while the raven hurried to help her out. “Okay, Okay, sweetie- Sweetie you need to calm down, alright-? The boys are fine, they should be crossed over, since that was  _ Dean _ I felt just now..”

“Don't make me look..”

Her voice sounded so broken the boys backed away, and shared a look, stepping back slowly as they inspected their forms. They couldn’t see anything wrong with them. It was as if they’d just gotten ready for the day.

“Bloody, so bloody..” CJ whispered. She was sobbing now, clutching the side’s of Pam’s shirt as she hunkered down closer and closer to the floor. “Don’t make me look.. Don’t make me look.. Please don’t, Pam.. Please..”

“You don’t have to look, it’s okay,” the woman cooed softly, brushing through the shuddering girl’s hair with her fingers, “There’s nothing wrong, you’re perfectly safe. You don’t need to look...”

CJ was clutching her friend in silence, now. Her body shaking with sobs, but refusing to leave her mouth as she pressed tightly to the woman’s stomach. 

“CJ,” she whispered, “I’m going to give ‘em a little pep talk before they go wandering, can you sit here..?”

“Yes..” she rasped.

“I’ll be quick,” she gave the girl a smile, a wink, before moving to go back into the room. They boys had to jump out of her way so as not to be walked through, and she walked right over to the beds before folding her arms across her chest and sighing. “Okay, well, I’m assuming you both are somewhere over the rainbow by now.. Just remember I have to bring you back..” She walked up toward Sam, then, moving to kneel a bit on the bed so she could reach hs ridiculously high-up head. “I’ll whisper the incantation in your ear..”

“ _ You have got a great ass. _ ” The words echoed in Sam’s ear, and he chuckled out loud while his brother shot him a look of confusion.

“What’d she- What’d she say?” Dean shot him a confused shake of his head, and Sam shrugged innocently. 

He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

* * *

CJ shuddered as she waited for the boys to leave the room. It was a few minutes of them realizing they could go through walls before they walked right out, she’d left a broken line of salt on the windowsill for that purpose, but she waited until several minutes after they were completely out of the room before she was hurrying to cover it back up, heavily.

She helped Pamela move things around the table a bit, before setting out several decks of cards, and a newly acquired bag of candy, extra jumbo sized, mixed with every fun-sized, name-brand goodie Gabriel’s courtesy offered.

“So, new, sexy, aunt, will you teach me how to play cards? I’m decent at poker, I’ve beat Bobby, but Dean wipes the floor with me every single time..”

“Probably the connection,” she murmured idly, stacking up the boxes of Milk Duds, Twix, Twizzlers, M&Ms, Nerds, Skittles, Laffy Taffy, Jelly Beans, Kit-Kats, Crunch bars, Milky Ways, Three Musketeers, Hershey bars, Tootsie Rolls, Tootie Fruities, and hundreds of Hershey Kisses. “He can read you like a neon sign, can’t he?”

“I try to read him, but he’s got these frickin eyes..” she grumbled, forcibly pushing the memory of the blood  _ bloodbloodbloodlight-blood-light-blood- _ “You just get so lost in them you don’t know your name from your home state.”

“Lucky bitch,” Pamela cackled, moving to shuffle the cards expertly. “That’s what you complain about?”

CJ only mildly regret making this woman her unofficial aunt.

_ Fucking talented hands.. _

“Hey,” she grumbled, palming her hand and lifting it up to peak over the numbers, “When you’ve lost as much sugary revenue as I have, you get a bit bitter..”

“Was that a pun?”

“No, but it  _ should  _ have been.”


	78. Chapter 78

Sam and Dean walked surely down the alley on their way through the town, on the lookout for black smoke and signs of reaper activity.

A jogger came quickly up on their left as they passed a sidewalk, and they hurried to stop, but the woman in her tracksuit, tunes blaring in her ears, couldn’t see them as anything more than air as she phased through them, sending both brothers squirming at the strange sensation before Dean broke out into a smile.

“That was wild,” he chuckled.

Sam raised an eyebrow, and his brother paused, thinking a moment before he lifted up his left arm and ghosted it through Sam’s chest, right over his heart and waving it around.

Despite the weird, pit-like look of Dean’s arm going through his chest, Sam felt no discomfort. Seemed it was only solid things, then. Shooting his brother a bitchface, Dean hesitated, his arm still elbow-deep in his brother’s lungs, with a bit of a concerned raise of his eyebrows. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Get out of me,” Sam quipped.

Dean pulled away immediately, and Sam raised his eyebrows, as if silently asking ‘Really-?’, while his brother looked him up and down, before rolling his eyes and moving to walk down a different road. “You’re such a prude. Come on.”

* * *

“It’s been two and a half hours,” CJ murmured, her body nudged up to Dean’s comatose side as she lied there, cuddled into his arm, “I’m getting worried..”

“Eat some candy and come sit down,” the psychic ordered, waving her forward, and, seeing the pale look on the girl’s face, tried again, a bit softer. “Weren’t you the one who said they would win this?”

“They didn’t have me involved when they did,” she whispered, the words sounding almost haunting as she said them out loud, “They only worried about each other. I stayed back to worry about you. With Alistair here, he has all of Hell’s demon grunts at his disposal, I’m not letting anyone come with an inch of you or the boys..”

* * *

Two demons had been sent instead of one this time. She kept a heavy laden of salt over every window and exit, and rather than dealing with a possible murder, she had Pamela go into the bathroom and line that with salt, too.

She had two seconds after she’d opened the door for the demon to flash it’s eyes black and charge her. 

Thank you Grandpa for the necessary Krav Maga..

And Thank You devils traps under the rugs.

Dumbass was stuck in the circle until she had sent his soul back to Hell. The second Demon had taken a hold of her arms in her distraction, and she had put up a fight.

She really had.

However, when you get hit in the head with a bat more than one time, you tend to black out.

She was being thrown over a shoulder and hurried out of the building, then thrown into a car.

Pamela was nowhere near her.

That, she allowed herself, was the only reason she found the excuse to pass out.

* * *

By the time the demon had hauled her into the funeral home, she had formulated a viable plan with the weapons she had on her body.

Well.. Less weapons, more  _ weapon _ ...

There was a shotgun blast, and immediate, excruciating pain as she curled into her own body.  _ FUCK THAT HURT-  _ and the demons paused, stopping just inside the still-open doorway as they glanced toward the main room, then nodded to each other and started to drag her that way.

“-they keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole.”

“To kill  _ Death _ -?” 

“No, to kill Death  _ twice _ , it takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up though.. They’re like lemmings..”

She was carted in by two demons, seeing as the first one had gotten annoyed at her struggling and a second had swooped out of guard duty at the door to help drag her, kicking and cursing into the main room.

The symbol on the floor made her nauseous, as did the two bodies already there. 

The creepy old guy in the suit and Tessa.

She really should get that guy’s name when she saved him, it would bug her if she didn’t.

The boys were chained up on the elevated platform, and she felt herself get tossed to her knees in front of the shotgun wielding torture executive with a gag. 

_ Don’t look up- Don’t look up-don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook- _

“Well, well, well..” he chuckled, loud and slow as he started to take languid, deliberate steps around her kneeled form, “Looky what we have  _ here _ .. The princess finally decided to come, huh?”

“Nice calling card,” she rasped, lifting her head up at him with a grimace, “Do me a favor there,  _ Assistair _ , don’t shoot them again.. That would make me very, very angry.. You won’t like me when I’m angry..”

“I’m trembling, kitten,” he scoffed, reaching out the gun and tipping up her chin with the end of the barrel, “But it  _ is _ good to see you.. I’ve got a nice little room down under with your nametag on the seat..”

“Is it in a cage with a certain, blue-eyed someone with confidence enough for the southern hemisphere?” She deadpanned. He looked confused, and the brothers, who had been too shocked to actually see her in the room, began their, now ravenous, frustration anew.

“Alistair- don’t you dare touch her-!” Dean’s voice, had it been physical, could have cut steel, and Sam’s expression bordered on murderous to agony-filled sadistic torture.

“Dean be quiet-!” the woman called out, a bit annoyed, and not even looking toward the two men behind the strung-out chain. One was dripping blood from a wound in his back, the other layered and layered heavily in scars, blood, and red angry lines, a bright, blinding white surrounding each wound as if it were the only thing keeping him together as it gradually knit itself together.

Castiel’s grace, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“I’ve got this,” her words were lower, with less bite, but the boys weren’t convinced, as close as they could get to the iron shackles without phasing themselves out.

“CJ, don’t be stupid,” Sam warned, the girl in question not even turning her head to let the boys see her eyes as she kept her face trained on Alistair’s probing inspection.

“Well?” she asked softly, lifting her eyebrows up high when he tilted his head, “Are we looking for a conversation or a fight, here? I’m prepared enough for both..”

“Your little toys were taken on the way here, sweetheart,” he scoffed, shaking his head as the demon behind him held up the iron knuckle dusters. “Nice spellwork, by the way, I don’t even recognize half of the symbols. Where’d you get them? I’d like to pay my respects to the creator.”

“Ebay,” she smirked.

He chuckled then, a nasally sound as he glanced toward the boys, before firing a shot without warning. She keeled over with a grunt, feeling a tearing sensation at her core before she was being hauled upright by her chin, Alistair looking at her with wide, almost deathly excited eyes.

“Now, what’s this..?” he murmured, his mouth curving up higher and higher, ignoring Sam as he fazed back into the room with a gasp, and heaving breaths. Dean looked ready to tear down the entire building, knuckles white and fists clenched at his side as he darted his eyes around. 

Chandelier.

Iron Chandelier..

Right above the symbol..

“None of your concern, shit for brains,” she grinned, smiling when his grip turned tight and menacing on her chin, “Aww.. you’re so  _ sensitive _ .. I say two words and you get all defensive.. It’s almost cute.. Just a forewarning, what I said earlier, about being mad..” The rope around her wrists fell to the floor in a heap, and she hopped to her feet to get a few feet of distance between the two of them as she stuffed her hand in her pocket and pulled out a handful of powder.

“I’ve been reading up on some spells.. Found a couple that I really liked.. Thought I’d try a few out when I saw you next..”

“By all means,” he shrugged, holding out his arms playfully before he flicked his hand, his four current goons hurrying to move around to surround her, “Give it a go.”

“My pleasure,” she grinned.

She spun herself in a quick, sharp twirl, the powder in her hand flying out in a gritty, sandy wave of brown as the demons started coughing.

“Oh, you’re gonna have to try a bit better than that sweetheart.”

“Who said I was done?”

The chandelier fell sharply to the ground, shocking the line of the trap and making both reapers bolt to their feet immediately in wisps of white energy. Her palm shot out again, along with a slide of her foot, and she was sending her heel into the closest demon’s chest, sending him back a few feet and she curled her body to the side to dodge another. Her fist swung out, catching someone’s stomach while she ducked, then tucked, and rolled away. She popped up a few feet away, a good few feet from the demons, and slammed her hands together in a loud clap.

_ “ _ _ Anávo..” _

The fire was blue and white.

It stuck to their clothes, and their skin, burning away as black, acrid smoke wafted from their bodies and mouths in furtive coughs. Alistair had managed to dodge the swipes of finely ground sand-stuff and book it toward the doorway.

The chain hit the ground with a clatter, and she caught the tail-glimpse of Tessa letting it fall before she’d turned and was grabbed by the reaper man, catching her arm and hauling her out of the building quickly while the demons sank slowly to the floor.

Their skin and clothes were fine, but the burning smell of sulphur was heavy in the air. Several had thrown their heads back quickly, but the fire raged over their mouths, and they sank to the floor in pain.

The vessels would be fine.

_ She owed Gabe a cake for this.. _

* * *

“Dean-!” CJ was barreling toward the burned, bloodied figure pacing through the allies several minutes later, her face screwed up in revulsion but tears in her eyes as he visibly relaxed and wound his arms around her tightly. Sam was missing.

“CJ,” he breathed, blinking widely as he pushed her back, gripping her arms tightly as he looked her over, “You’re touching me- how are you doing that-?”

“I dunno,” she sniffed, reaching up her hands and using the heels of her palms to scrub away the tears ruining her eyeliner. “I dunno, I just.. I’m sorry- Dean.. I.. I can’t look at you like that-..”

“What do I look like?” he whispered, lightening his grip ever so slightly as she used her hands to completely cover her closed eyes. “CJ, talk to me.. Why can’t you look at me..?”

“You’re..” she tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave her tongue. Instead, she sucked a deep, heavy breath in, before reaching up a hand, and gripping his right shoulder. “There’s a hole here.. It’s filled with light..” He opened his mouth to say something, but her hand was already moving, tracing down his stomach in an eerily familiar pattern. “There are scars here.. There’s light holding it together..” His lips trembled, and he kept silent, feeling her gentle, probing fingers tracing over nearly every inch of his torso..

It felt like there was blood on her hands, but when she pulled them away, it was gone, only the vague, tingling feeling of it still lingering on her fingers as she frantically scrubbed them on her jeans.

“I.. I see the imprint of it on you like another skin.. You.. You’re clothes are soaked in blood..”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his fingers curling into the sleeves of her shirt as she sniffed, and covered her eyes again. He had the sudden, burning urge to tuck her into his chest, let his chin rest atop her head and kiss at the tears pouring out of her face, but he stopped, forced himself to take in the scene around them, and tensed at the familiar, daunting figure further in the alley, leaning against the brick wall of a building and watching the duo with a wicked, knowing smile..

“Well, would ya’ look at that,” Alistair rasped, the sound spooking CJ enough that she was grappling to grip the Winchester’s impossibly tangible arm. “Oh, don’t mind me you lovebirds.. I was enjoying the show..” When they tensed further, and got into similar, defensive stances, he chuckled, and rolled his eyes as he shucked himself off of the wall and moved until he was around fifteen feet away. “Oh, you’re no fun. Guess it’s back to business then, huh? I’ll enjoy ripping her out of your arms..”

“Voyeur,” the woman spat, the disgust, and rage on her face twisting it into a rather deadly expression.

“CJ,” Dean whispered, “ _ Go _ , he can’t do anything to me, but you’re  _ here _ ..”

“You can’t run, Dean..” Alistair chuckled, slow and relaxed, “Neither of you can. Not from  _ me _ ..” He slowly started to walk closer, and pieces of scenes flashed behind Dean’s eyes.. 

The same, confident gate, the same, twisted smile..

The same tone of voice..

Alistair knew, for a fact, what the scrambling behind the Winchester’s eyes really meant.

“I’m  _ inside  _ that angst-y.. little.. noggin of yours..” CJ pulled Dean back abruptly, and there was only half a moment for the demon to look confused before he was assaulted with bright, beaming lightning. 

Dean turned away quickly, hunkering down as he shielded the woman as best as he could, though the shadow of him didn’t appear, and she stared resolutely at the ground between them, clenching at his shirt and shivering.

“What the Hell?” Dean rapsed, pressing CJ back to look her over again.

“Guess again.”

Both adults jumped, turning quickly toward the deep, rather lifted voice of the Holy Tax Accountant in their company. Castiel was staring calmly at the spot Alistair had disappeared from, before he flicked his eyes to the duo clutching one another’s upper arms.

* * *

“What just happened-?” Dean demanded.

“What just happened?” Castiel repeated, a look of knowing and slight, hidden awe in his calm eyes as he watched the righteous man unconsciously tuck the frazzled, stiff woman against his chest. “You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alistair.” Seeing the unsure, annoyed expression on the man’s face, he elaborated further, “Dean, this was a victory.”

“Well, no thanks to you,” Dean scoffed.

“What makes you say that?” Cas asked softly. He looked genuinely confused, and CJ took that moment to step away from Dean, swallowing thickly as she looked down at her clothes. They looked absolutely fine, but it felt as if her body had been painted with Dean’s blood. She shivered in response to the cold wind against her thin, long sleeved shirt and her house jeans.

“You were here the whole time,” Dean pointed out, quiet as he kept his gaze on the rather emotionless looking man. Anna was right, they didn’t really seem to feel emotion at all..

“Enough of it,” Castiel amended.

“Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt,” Dean gruffed.

“That script on the funeral home,” Castiel explained, almost toneless, but not quite, “We couldn’t penetrate it.”

“That was angel-proofing,” Dean filled in the blanks.

“Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?” Castiel raised an eyebrow, more out of his vessel’s habit than anything else.

“You recruited us?” Dean repeated.

“That wasn’t your friend, Bobby, who called, Dean,” Castiel explained, in a way that wasn’t firm, but not sorry, either. “It wasn’t Bobby who told Sam about the seal.”

“That was you,” Dean deadpanned, flicking his eyes toward CJ, though she seemed a bit too occupied staring at her hands. Her eyes were wide, and her pupils small, fingers trembling as she gazed into her open palms. “CJ, you good?”

“Hm?” she whispered, blinking quickly before lifting her eyes, she had gotten a half second of looking at Dean before she was turning away, fingers clenching and unclenching at her side as she completely turned her body to face Castiel. He tried not to let it bother him too much.

“If you wanted our help,” Dean swallowed, pushing himself back to the present issue as he glared at the soldier, “Why the Hell didn’t you just ask?”

“Because, whatever I ask..” Castiel spoke up, the first, real strand of emotion the Winchester heard from him. Annoyance, “You seem to do the exact opposite..”

“Jesus,” CJ sniffed, gaining both of their attention to her bright, happy grin. “Cassie just got sassy with you, Cowboy.. I’m so proud.. He’ll fit in no time.”

She was panicking.

Dean tried to brush it back.

She looked spooked, wouldn’t even look at him.

“So, what now, huh?” Dean asked quietly, causing the angel to look back at him again, “the people in this town.. They just gonna start dying again?”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded.

“These are good people,” Dean whisper hissed, “Don’t you think you can make a few exceptions?”

“To everything, there is a season,” Castiel droned. As if it were something he’d repeated a number of thousands of times. 

“You made an exception for me,” Dean pointed out.

“You’re different,” Castiel replied. There was a shift of wings, and a sharp flap down, and he was gone in a burst of wind. CJ felt it tug at her clothes, but gripped resolutely to her upper arms. She wouldn’t look over and she wouldn’t look down.

There was a shift in the air, and they weren’t alone, a woman with straight, shoulder-length hair and a black jacket stood beside Dean with a calm, relaxed expression. Dean looked over at her quickly, surprised by her appearance, though CJ seemed to be staring at her now, too.

“Thank you,” Tessa murmured, looking toward the woman softly, with lowered eyelids and an expression that almost seemed demure. Dean wanted to question it, to say something, but from the shocked look on CJ’s face he held his tongue as the reaper bowed her head to the girl. “Caleb and I are alive and well due to you and the Winchesters. I hope we meet again, on better circumstance.”

“Same,” CJ whispered.

Tessa chuckled once before letting out a deep breath, and giving Dean her full attention. “I could use your help with something..”

* * *

Dean sat up from his bed with a gasp, looking around quickly before turning his eyes to his brother. Pamela had an ice-pack to her face, and Sam was clutching his forearm, but nothing else was out of place.

Well, maybe the dead body on the floor in a devils trap..

“Where’s CJ?” he rasped, licking his lips to wet them while Sam looked startled, then worried. “Wasn’t she with you?”

“Tessa took me to help with Cole- CJ said she was coming back- couldn’t let the mom see her,” Dean rambled, lifting his hands quickly to tug at his hair before he got to his feet, “Where is she-? Sam, we need to,” he fumbled a bit as he stood, the vertigo a bit too much as his brother hurried over and grabbed his shoulder, gently sitting him back down.

“We’ll call her,” Sam repeated calmly, “Just.. relax.. Okay..?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his hands flinching as he pressed his palms to his chest and stomach, “Let’s.. Let’s call her..”

* * *

She was walking down the hallway of the motel slowly, her gut sinking further and further with every step she took.

She wanted to know if she changed it.

She prayed, long and hard, that she did..

But what about Fate?

Did she change Fate by being there? Or was Fate set from the get-go..?

But Michelle died..

Did she have a chance at all, or was she going to be shooting blanks for the rest of this awful, fucked up ride..?

Her fist pounded on the wall closest to her, and she stopped three doors down from their room.

She couldn’t do it..

She didn’t want to know.

She didn’t want to be there-

_ She didn’t want to see. _

_ Don’t make me see her- _

_ Don’tmakemepleasedon’tIdon’twanthertodie- _

* * *

Sam frowned at the ringtone as it sounded from the table behind them, the sleek, new-age device hooked into its charger by the worn grey duffel bag she used for clothes. “Shit,” the brunette muttered, clicking the call closed before getting to his feet with a wince.

He might have sprained his wrist when he hit the ground.

Fucking Demons..

Dean was on his feet again, slower this time as he moved to grab his keys from his pocket, Pamela standing quickly as well as they all shuffled for the door.

“Where the Hell is she?” Dean rasped, gritting his teeth as he hurried to open the door, he didn’t get two steps before he had paused, Pamela bumping into his back before he was sprinting down the hallway. “ _ CJ-! _ ”

“Dean-!” the chorus had come from both Sam and Pamela, both characters pausing before they were rushing too. The girl down the hallway kneeled on the floor and clutching her head as blood poured from between her fingers.

She was clawing at her scalp.

“CJ, stop it,” Dean was barking the order the second he had got there, scrambling to sit beside her before wretching her hands away and crushing her to his chest. She spluttered at the sudden shift, her eyes wide with shock before she was writhing against him and pushing herself away sharply. “ _ Nononono- I don’t wanna go- I don’t wanna see her- I don’t wanna see her-” _

She was speaking in tongues again, Dean internally groaned, shifting his arms as she fought against him before she was crushed to his chest again, her face pressing into the fabric of his shirt and her hands fisting into his jacket as she started to bawl. “ _ Don’t make me, Dean, don’t make me see her.. I don’t want to see her dead..” _

“CJ, you need to come back to us,” Dean whispered, his lips pressing tightly into her hair as she pulled herself closer, tucked deeper into his body and her fingers practically digging into his back. “You need to get up from this.. At least get in the room.. We have blankets, so you can warm up, and candy if you’re hungry, Hell, I’ll go by you a burger if you want it.. But can you  _ please _ get up..?”

“Dean,” Sam whispered, biting his lip as he juggled whether or not to say what was likely the problem. Instead, he cleared his throat, reached down, and grasped his brother’s shoulder once again. “Why don’t we let Pamela try?”

The name coming off of his lips tore a louder, harsher sob from the girl, and both boys flinched before Dean was intercepted by the psychic as she gently pushed him away, and eased her hands over the girl’s arms. “CJ, sweetheart. Are you okay..?”

“ _ -akemedon’tmakemedon’tmakeme-”  _ CJ whispered, over and over as she pressed deeper into the elder brother of the male duo, _ “don’tmakemedon’tmakeme-” _

“CJ,” Pamela called again, louder this time, and her grip on the girl’s shoulders was now firm and tight. “Stop.”

The instantaneous way she had listened to the command had both brothers reeling before CJ had slowly lifted her head, and turned toward the woman crouched behind her.

“Pamela..?” she whispered.

“I’m right here, Doll,” she whispered. “Now that you’re back to Earth.. Why don’t you let go of Dean there, and we can go get something to eat..?”

She blinked at the raven haired woman slowly, hazel eyes glazed and gradually opening more as it cleared. All of a sudden, Pamela’s arms were full of the young adult, and she was nearly crushed to the girl’s chest. The silence that befell the group was a heavy one, but in it, there was relief, and, on CJ’s part, love.

“Did they hurt you?” she whispered. Her grip tightened a bit, but she immediately relaxed it at the woman’s tensed, breathy chuckle. “I just banged up my head a bit, hun. He got a hold of me before we got to the rug, and after that I called back Sam. He.. took care of it.. Then I called back Dean.. I’m fine, and so are the boys..”

“Good..” she whispered. 

Her face tucked tighter into the curve of Pamela’s shoulder and neck, and the tears in her eyes burned hot as they fell down her face.

“That’s good..”

 


	79. Chapter 79




	80. T'was the Day Before Christmas Eve...

CJ was practically vibrating as she rushed from room to room around the Singer Salvage house. The boys were on a case for a salt and burn up in North Dakota. A quick case, since Sam had already done the majority of the research before they left.

Or, CJ had done it  _ for _ him so they would be occupied.

She’d also made a call to Rufus, offering him a good few bottles of a certain alcohol to get Bobby out of the house for a few days.

That gave her plenty of time to prep.

Invitations were sent weeks ago, groceries had been bought. 

And Gabe was helping decorate.

“This tinsel would look better on the mantel,” said male was currently perked up behind her, following after her with a plastic tub of freshly-bought decorations from multiple stores. He had a line of silver in his hand, offered over the gold she had pulled out. She nodded quickly, giving him a smile as she traded out the decor, curling it into a sort of loop before pinning it up in waves. 

By the time five o’clock swung around, she was looking over the house with a grin nearly splitting her face in half. Gabriel was lied out along the couch dramatically, an arm over his eyes as he bemoaned his empty stomach. “Lollipop,  _ now _ can we eat-?”

“Yes, Gabriel,  _ now _ we can eat,” she scoffed, plopping herself in front of the recliner in the freshly cleaned, organized room. The books were all put into alphabetized and genre-oriented boxes, tucked tightly into the basement in order of placement with a map of every stack drawn out for when she would put the room back together. 

A small feast spread out in front of her, and she grinned as she picked up the chopsticks for the Chinese buffet. “Wow.. nice touch on the fortune cookies..”

“Thank you,” he grinned, plopping himself on the flour so they could both eat at the newly made low table, moving to sit on their knees and eat properly with chopsticks. There was even a tumbler of sake. “Cookies are for after we’re finished,” he swat at her fingers when she’d reached to grab one, and he smiled impishly when she shot him a pout, “Oh come on, you can wait a little bit. Or are you still on your adrenaline rush from your spree earlier?”

“I fell out of the tree, Gabe, I have a right to be startled.”

“You should have known I’d catch you.”

“And I thanked you with a cookie, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it was from  _ yesterday _ ..”

“Cookies last longer than a day, Gabe. Humans don’t eat an entire batch in one sitting, generally..”

“Don’t  _ they  _ demolish your pies?”

“That’s different, I put the best I can into stuff I make for you or the guys.” She snorted, popping a piece of chicken into her mouth and chewing slowly. Gabriel ate slowly as well. He didn’t  _ need _ to eat, but he said it was more enjoyable to eat with others in the way that you would share a meal.

She loved eating with him anyway, there was always something new for her to try that he knew she would love.

Except oysters. She just..

She didn’t like oysters.

He got her to try alternate styles of sushi, crab, even octopus and eel.

Bless him for trying, though.

“I know,” he grumbled, poking around his plate a bit as his expression became sullen, “They just get to eat your stuff  _ way _ more often..”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes, “But I sneak you as much as I can without them asking. Bobby doesn’t really  _ leave _ often..”

“You bribed that Rufus guy with a crate of Johnnie Walker Blue to get him out, I’m not surprised,” Gabriel gave a very ungentlemanly snort, before raising his sake dish to his lips and taken a generous sip. “So, what’s the plan after this? More decorating?”

“Close,” she grinned, her eyes bright and sparkling as she tucked her arms closer to her chest, “Gift wrapping-!”

“Oh boy,” Gabriel groaned, but his face was betraying his genuine smile, “I’m gonna regret offering to help you with this..”

“As long as you show up in disguise, I’m positive you can come, Gabe,” her words were softer then, and he hovered his dumpling over the plate as he glanced back over toward her. She’d set down her chopsticks altogether, looking at him with something akin to compassionate understanding, borderline begging. “Please-? I know-.. I know- you’re not  _ partial  _ to the Winchesters, and they annoy you- and hunters in general piss you off, but-.. Please?”

“Why do you want me there?” he raised an eyebrow high on his forehead, and she frowned at his rebuttal, like she knew she had already lost.

“It’s just..” she mumbled, picking up her chopsticks again and spearing them into her chicken, “I.. kind of want you to  _ have _ a celebration this year.. Christmas isn’t about Christ, or God, or anything like that.. It’s.. It’s about spending time with your family, and friends.. Showing them how much you love and appreciate them..”

“I won’t know anyone but you,” he pointed out calmly, “How do you expect to jump that hurdle with a room of hunters?”

“I’m already a wild card,” she smiled then, “I’ll just say we met at the facility I was held in. You were one of my caretakers or something. Or since the boys already know you exist, maybe we’ll just say you’re a work mate.”

“...I suppose that would work, wouldn’t it..”

She seemed surprised by his answer, a bit of the rice she had picked up sprinkling back to her plate as she gave him a wide-eyed stare.

“You really want me there?” he lifted both eyebrows this time, and when she nodded, sharp and quick, he let a smile grace his lips. “Well alright then, that’s settled. What do you want me to look like?”

“Don’t come as Dr .Sexy,” she started immediately, catching his confusion and letting out a loud, heavy sigh, “As cute as you are in his doctors clothes with long sleeves, I can’t fawn over you when you look like that, and Dean knows what he looks like.”

“You got him hooked on Dr. Sexy M.D.” Gabriel scoffed, his grin growing, “Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Sleep without conscious thought,” she deadpanned.

“Touche,” he nodded.


	81. T'was the Night Before Christmas

“They’re almost here,” CJ hissed, clutching at Gabriel’s side with vice-grip nails and an expression of fear, “Oh, Lollipops, what if they hate it- what if it’s too much- maybe we should get rid of the fake snow, should we- maybe we should-”

A hand settled over her mouth, and she shut up immediately, flicking her eyes up to familiar honey-brown ones in an unfamiliar face. He’d gone for the subtly attractive look, with a splash of a light tan on his average height and choppy, black hair pressed back with a swipe of his other hand. He looked a tad younger, maybe late twenties, relaxed and ready as he forced her to hold his gaze. “Lollipop,” he murmured, even his voice was deeper, and a tad more smooth, though that could have been done on his own part, “It’s gonna be  _ alright _ . Okay..? You’re gonna take a deep breath for me when I let you go, and you’re going to relax.”

“O-kphm,” she murmured, nodding slowly at his pointed look and taking a dramatic, deep breath out of spite, before letting it out slowly, and returning to curling her fingers into the hem of her sweater dress.

Gabriel had gone for the most disgustingly ugly Christmas sweater he could find, with little blinking lights on the stitched-in tree and the noses of the reindeer, while his black slacks were loose and his sneakers clean. There was a Santa hat on his head, constantly threatening to hit her with the little fluffy white ball on the end when he turned his head, though she suspected he did that on purpose.

Rather than the casual disinterested approach, CJ had gone to great lengths to look casual, but comfortable. She wore a green sweater dress, that Gabriel swore brought the green out in her hazel eyes, soft black leggings, black, knee-high boots and a pair of shining, gold tassel earrings that dangled a few inches above her shoulders. Her makeup was done gently, with only a bit of grey eye-shadow and eyeliner, a soft pink tint to her lips and her nails painted red. She also had a Santa hat on her head, but hers was green, with red and gold plaid in the pattern across it.

She had a plaid-green one for Dean and a plaid-blue one for Sam as well.

Rufus had called and told her he was on his way with Bobby. It would be a few minutes, and the guests were set to arrive around that time, too.

Nerves prickled up and down her arms, and she sucked in a deep, calming breath before she let it out again. Gabriel smiled a bit, seeing her struggle, and reaching up a hand to comb through her straightened hair. “You look great. Stop fussing.”

“I’m panicking,” she whisper-yelled, closing her eyes as she forced herself to keep from actually crying. “They don’t  _ ever _ have Christmases like this-  _ ever- _ I don’t know how they’ll handle it-!”

“Breathe,” he whispered, reaching over to one of the decorative end tables he had angelically polished and plucking one of the red Christmas M&Ms from the bowl there to press to her lips. “Eat.” She let him feed her a few before she calmed down, licking a bit at her lips to give them a shine as a few cars started to rumble along the driveway, closer to the house.

She felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest.

When the door was knocked on, she hurried over, and opened it wide, literally laughing in relief when Garth was the first to give her a big, beaming smile. “CJ-!” he crowed, reaching forward and wrapping her tightly into a hug. She had expressly told him to wear something comfortable, hunting clothes included, but he’d gone for the nice Christmas sweater look, a dark blue one with white snowflakes, dark jeans and a red Santa hat. She returned his embrace tightly, and giggled as she ushered him inside. It was getting cold. “It’s great to see you, Candy girl-!” he grinned, holding up the strap of a duffel bag, overflowing with gifts in his arm, “I brought presents-!”

“Garth, you are the man,” CJ chuckled, clearing her throat as she gestured to Gabe, who was now casually leaning against the wall of the stairway, looking on the scene with a practiced, bored expression. “Garth, this is my friend, Gabe. I call him Sweetheart.”

“Gabe, huh?” he repeated, offering the man an unassuming grin and holding out his free hand brightly. “Nice to meet you-! I’m Garth-!”

“Pleasure,” Gabe nodded, shaking his hand firmly before jerking his chin toward the living room, “Tree’s in there. Gift passing is at eleven. Dinner’s at nine thirty.”

“Sweet,” Garth grinned, giving the girl a final hug before he hurried inside.

CJ waited, the door opened again when she caught sight of several more people walking up the steps, dressed in hunter’s clothes. She grinned at them, and welcomed them with a smile. “Merry Christmas Eve everyone-! I’m glad you could make it-!”

* * *

It was almost 8:30 by the time Bobby made it home, the boys saying they would be home around nine. She explicitly told them they weren’t allowed to eat any food after lunch on the way home, and Dean had crowed with excitement when she hinted at dinner, and pie.

“Girl,  _ what in the Hell _ is going on-?” Bobby’s voice was raised in disbelief as he took in the state of his home, Christmas lights on every edge of the outside, with inflatables waving proudly in the yard. He’d seen a few cars on his way up, but there were dozens out surrounding his house, glowing brightly and inviting, along with Christmas music playing in the background.

Rufus merely laughed, long and loud, patting his friend heartily on the back before accepting the hug from the much shorter girl. “Look at you, putting this all together.”

“I had to,” she grinned, then turned to Bobby before pulling him into a tighter, warmer hug. “I wanted to thank you guys for everything you’ve done.. Figured a loud, bright Christmas you could remember would be a good place to start.”

“Girl,” he grumbled, sighing through his nose as he looked around, then closed his eyes and returned the tight hug. “You don’t need to  _ do _ anything. I’m happy enough with your cooking.”

“Shucks,” she giggled, wiping a quick, traitorous tear before pulling both Bobby and Rufus in for another, tight hug, “Guys, there’s someone I want you to meet. Remember Sweetheart? From my Halloween vacation?” 

“The one who took ya’ on a date?” Bobby narrowed his eyes. Rufus had to press his lips together not to comment on his friend’s immediate hackles.

“Hiya, Mister Singer,” a boy popped up from behind the woman, giving the man a calm, relaxed smile as he held out his hand, “My name is Gabe Shurley. I’m a friend of CJ’s. It’s great to meet you, finally, face-to-face.” Bobby gave him a slow, warning glare before he reached out, shaking the boy’s hand tightly before settling back again. Rufus really did chuckle then before cutting in with a brighter, happier voice. “Well-! I’m gonna go see what you have to drink in this place.” “There’s an open bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue on top of the fridge,” CJ offered him a smile, and he pat her shoulder as he passed, murmuring about Christmas invitations and ridiculous traditions.

“My books..” Bobby grumbled, the first thing out of his mouth as he took in the garlands on the walls, ribbons pinned up, and the red and green streamers  _ everywhere _ .. There was fake snow on his banisters, at the side of every stair, and golden stars dangling from the ceiling with what looked like invisible trick string. 

In the corner of his living room, where there was now another couch, multiple giant beanbags and his desk gone, stood a giant, massive tree at ten feet, a shining angel on the top that was wearing, surprisingly, a trench coat and a crooked blue tie. Stacked beneath the tree were piles upon piles of gifts, and hung around it were lights, popcorn strings, berries, and what smelled like actual gingerbread men. There were also shiny glass balls, tinsel and ribbon, and in several places, what looked like handmade ornaments shaped with clay to look like little monsters.

He let out a disbelieving, but amused laugh at the sight.

“Bobby Singer,” the voice was familiar, and he turned to see Ellen in a maroon sweater, holding a beer up in greeting from beside Jo, who was eating a cookie and sporting a flannel, dark jeans and a Santa hat with a pink plaid pattern. Ellen sported a plain red one. “I thought you wouldn’t show, it was getting so late.”

“It  _ is _ my house,” he grumbled, pouting a bit as he looked over every pain-staking decoration as a smile tugged on his lips.

_ Jesus, Girl. Did she know when to quit..? _

“She surprise you?” Ellen chuckled, her smile broadening as she took a deep, heavenly breath of the smell of food, and sugar, before taking a look around the rather bustling house of people. Most everyone were talking, and laughing together, with only a few people merely watching, looking incredibly relaxed for a hunter, off-duty or no. “She really put this place together, didn’t she? I didn’t even recognize the place at first.”

“Neither did I,” he muttered, raising his beer to his lips and sipping quietly before returning his eyes to the bustle around him. 

“It’s nice,” Ellen murmured, her arm wound around Jo’s shoulder briefly before patting her shoulder. “You having fun, girl?”

“Not really,” the blonde grumbled, a frown on her face as she rubbed her neck, “I don’t really know many people here..”

“Neither does CJ,” Ellen snorted, “She just took the old man’s contact book and started calling around.”

“Knew I shouldn’t a’ left it in the kitchen,” he scoffed.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh.

* * *

“Dean..” Sam murmured, his brother’s eyes similar in size to his as they stared at the waving, welcoming Santa inflatable in front of Bobby’s house. There were cars, a lot more cars, than usual around it, only a handful of them looking like they were falling apart. Beside that one was a few reindeer inflatables, a Scooby-Doo inflatable in a Santa hat, and a penguin going up and down out of a wrapped present box. The house was lined, at every edge, with Christmas lights, and at the chimney, there was another inflatable, a Santa one looking like he were tripping over himself and about to fall over the roof.

The lights were on in every room, people flooding every space through the windows they could see, most of them laughing or talking animatedly with each other as Christmas music drifted out of the semi-open windows.

“Yeah, I see it, too,” he rapsed, pulling his baby quickly into park before they had hurried to get out of the car and jog up the stairs. They hesitated at the door, and just as Sam moved to knock, loudly due to the rather loud voices and music, they were met with a person they didn’t know opening it with a rather bored look.

He pursed his eyebrows up at the two of them briefly before he relaxed again, and offered the boys a slight, bored smile, “Nice to see you could make it. CJ was getting worried.”

“Who are you?” Dean demanded swiftly, taking in the ribbons, garlands, tinsel and fake snow with a shift of his feet. Everything look bright, clean, and warm. They recognized a few faces, wearing either hunter’s clothes or ugly sweaters, talking and laughing over beer, whiskey, and in some cases, wine.

There was even a handful of kids running around through a room toward the back.

“Name’s Gabe,” he nodded, ticking his head to the side before turning to look toward the woman rushing over, her face flushed and completely out of breath as she clutched a nicely-dressed toddler to her side, a five-year old in similar clothing scampering along with a giggle, “Holy Crap- Dean- Sam-!”

She skid to a stop in front of them, giving them both a weak, lopsided smile, before she held the baby higher on her hip and gave the little boy beside her a wink, “Why don’t you go get one of the cookies I made with the blue frosting, huh? I won’t tell your mama if you don’t.”

The kid looked practically elated, and rushed off after giving her thigh a quick, tight hug. She sighed then, looking back to the boys with a sheepish smile. “You’re late.. We’re eating in a few minutes, so you’re in time for that, though.”

“What is all this..?” Sam whispered, blinking as he took in the lights, and the tree peeking out of the living room, they had to work there way toward it, past the main entryway, and the shift in decor seemed to stun both of the brothers into silence.

“I..” she whispered, shrugging a bit as she bit her lip, “Wanted to give you a Christmas.. There’s mostly hunters here, and some hunter families.. But there are also some cops who are in on the supernatural secrets, and their families, too. This little guy’s name is Cooper,” her voice had bubbled at the end, and she gave a smile to the child sucking on his pacifier, wearing a sweater over a white button-up and stiff-looking pants with tiny, polished black shoes. He had a soft blue blanket curled half-way around him, and his grey-blue eyes peered at the brothers briefly before he tucked himself back into the woman holding him. “He’s shy,” she shrugged, smiling bashfully before leaning to press a kiss to his head, “Why don’t we go find Dada so we can put you down for a nap, huh?” He nodded against her, and she held up a single finger to the boys before taking off through the crowd.

Sam swallowed thickly, biting his lip between his teeth as he shifted on his feet. Dean pressed his back up against the wall, stepping out of the way of a hunter, who had offered him a polite nod before continuing on his way, sharing a laugh with the man beside him as they talked about, what he could guess was a vampire case.

“She.. really did this, didn’t she?” Dean breathed. Everyone, well, mostly everyone, was smiling, and talking, relaxed. “Mhm,” Sam nodded, pulling his hands in and out of his pockets, unsure, before they resumed their awkward silence, just taking in the decor, and the people and that  _ wonderful smell _ ..

Dean knew that smell, and his mouth instantly watered as he followed his nose to the kitchen. It seemed almost barred off at a certain point. He made his way to inspect one of the untouched, tinfoil covered platters, but a wooden spoon shot out, and a glare from the man who had opened the door made him pause. 

“Ease up, Hasselhoff,” the raven scoffed, folding his arms across his chest casually, “CJ wants everyone to eat at the same time. You can wait five minutes.”

“How do you know CJ,” he frowned a little, mouth pressing tightly a bit when the man seemed to smirk at him, a playful glint in his eyes that neither brother liked,  _ immediately _ . “We’re close,” he answered simply, returning to his position as food guard with a disinterest shrug of a shoulder.

“Sweetheart-! There you are-!”

CJ was back again, and both boys had to physically stop themselves from letting their jaws drop as she threw herself into the man’s arms and hugged him tightly, “Thank you so much for staying, tonight.”

“No problem, Lollipop,” the man’s voice had gone from bored and slightly mocking to gentle and playful in an instant. Dean felt his hackles raise, and a glance at his brother made that  _ two  _ irritated men. “You said you wanted me to stay, I told you I will.”

“You’re the best,” she murmured, popping up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

The Winchesters seethed in silent, baited unison, before CJ turned, and seemed to jump at the sight of them, before relaxing, and giving them matching, excited grins, “Look, I know you guys don’t really ever do much for Christmas.. And your last one kind of sucked majorly..”

“Fudging Pagans,” Dean grumbled, shuddering in disgust while Gabe looked briefly insulted before becoming bored again. Dean brushed it off, CJ was giving him a sad, knowing smile, but she looked excited too, as she hurried up to stand between them and grab the hand closest to her from each of the brothers. 

“But,” she continued, squeezing both of their hands with an almost fearfully hopeful smile, “I wanted to do something nice. This is.. Kind of.. Would you.. like to give it a try..?”

She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, nearly breaking skin as the brothers looked around each other a slow, final time, before relaxing, and tugging her forward.

She was crushed to Dean’s chest first, and she spluttered a bit before she started to laugh, hugging back tightly as he picked her up and twirled her on her feet. Sam took a hold of her dizzy form when she was put down again, and she was tucked tightly to his chest as he leant down to press a kiss to her temple, and whisper into her ear. “Thank you.”

She shivered a little, and swat his chest, her flushed face a shade darker as Dean reached up to flick the white ball of her hat away from her ear. He looked amused.

“So,” he drawled, eyeing the tins behind her with bright, hopeful eyes, “Dinner?”

CJ felt her grin glide across her face with ease. “Yep.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned back, and Sam could only slowly shake his head as he eyed the smoked Macaroni tins beside Gabe.

There was a  _ lot _ of food..

There was also a lot of people..

_ But that was seriously a lot of food _ ..

* * *

“Alright, everyone,” CJ used her fork, silver, to the guests amusement, to tap the side of her glass. It was nine thirty, and everyone had gone through to get a giant helping plate. There was still plenty left over for seconds, thirds, and likely a ton to take home. “If I could have your attention..?”

The casual conversations and soft chatter died slowly, and the house became quiet as the Christmas music was turned almost all the way down. She grinned, and nodded, checking her balance on the leg of the couch while Gabe was her support, keeping an arm raised around her hip so she was steady.

The boys didn’t seem to like him much.

“I’d like to take a few moments for everyone to know a few things. First off, this is my first Christmas celebration with the hunting community, and I’m incredibly grateful you all took time out of your busy schedules to come out tonight.” There was a brief pause, and a soft applause came from those who had set there plates down on the foldable tables that had been brought out, or some of the many TV trays she had purchased for the occasion. “Second, I’d like to thank Mister Bobby Singer, for unintentionally providing his home for this get-together, and Rufus, for keeping him busy for the few days it took to decorate.” There was laughter then, and CJ shot the elder man an apologetic wink as he grumbled over a beer. He nodded all the same, while Rufus raised his cup of Johnnie Walker Blue in recognition. 

“I’d also like to thank Sam, and Dean Winchester.. For including me into their circle.. I like to think of them as my unofficial family. Family may not always end in blood, or grace, but.. I like to think it doesn’t really start there, either..”

There were some cheers, and glasses clinked, and she sent the two boys a soft, watery smile from their place near Bobby, “Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it..”

“No chick-flicks, CJ, come  _ on _ ,” Dean groaned. He got a round of laughter from that, and a swat to the shoulder from Ellen, and then Pam, both mother figures giving the girl a smirk as she inhaled, then nodded, and moved to put her hand atop Gabriel’s head, “And lastly, I’d like to thank Gabe. Without him, I probably would have fallen off the roof.. And the tree.. And a ladder.. Multiple times, putting this together.” A louder round of laughter, and she grinned, “Well, I’ve said all my socially-awkward ass can handle without bourbon, enjoy your food everyone-!”

There were cheers again, most everyone clinking their glass, while CJ tapped her wine-glass of grape soda to Gabe’s tumbler of hot cocoa. “Merry Christmas Eve, Gabe,” she whispered, letting him help her down carefully by her hips before she was tugged at by Pamela. He mouthed the words back to her, before taking a sip of his cocoa, smiling devilishly when she started to giggle at his whip-cream stash and licking it away once her back was turned. 

He’d give her his gift when the gift-giving was over.

He’d put it in the back for that reason anyway.

The Christmas music was turned up again, but it was background noise to the various conversations and stories going around the entire lower level of the home. The upstairs had been turned into a kickback for the kids, after showing the parents the safety places set up for toddlers and babies, with things for older children, like lots of various board games, and a Christmas-movie marathon set up to play out in her bedroom. There was three of the five present children already passed out in her King-size memory foam bed. Having eaten around eight, and left to play around 8:30.

The parents really appreciated the thought, and got to enjoy the rest of their night while occasionally checking in, but relaxing nonetheless.

“You did good, Doll,” Pamela murmured into the girl’s ear, rubbing her shoulders and leading her back toward the round fold-out table she’d claimed for their little group. Dean and Sam were sat with Bobby, Ellen and Jo beside her, Gabe beside Jo and Pamela’s food set beside him. Dean was on her other side, and a free space sat between him and Sam. CJ’s plate set right between the two of theirs as they slowly started digging into their food.

Gabe pouted a little after being steered into the seat earlier by Pamela, but the woman seemed hell bent on keeping CJ between both of the brothers. 

“They love it,” she continued the whisper with a reassuring squeeze, and CJ lifted an arm to give the woman a tight, warm hug before pulling away to sit down with a laugh. Dean had been pushed into telling a hunting story from the glory days before the John Fiasco. Even Sam was laughing along at some of the ridiculous things that came out of the whack-doodle-case that wasn’t a case after all. 

She felt a warm hand under the table settle on her lap, and she jumped a bit, but calmed when she traced it back to Dean. He was idly setting his palm on her lower thigh, his other hand gesturing wildly with his fork while he explained in exact detail what the ridiculous man he’d questioned had been wearing, and  _ smelled _ like. Ellen had complained about the details, and Jo had nearly snorted champagne through her nose.

Gabe even cracked a few smiles as the minutes passed. Then an hour. Firsts turned into seconds.. Seconds into thirds.. Then people were starting to moan about their stomachs bursting. 

Sam and Dean included. Dean had actually lowered his forehead to the table with a groan, his fingers twisting into the hem of her sweater dress as she giggled, having switched from grape soda to Champagne after her first serving and stopped eating altogether. She wanted to save room for dessert.

Sam had left his right arm lying out along the back of her folding chair, settled back as he relaxed in his seat. Conversations were still going strong, and it was almost eleven o’clock. And CJ knew what that meant. 

_ Present time, bitches. _

Moving her hands to her lap, she reached down, and pat Dean’s hand, startling him a bit as she moved to stand up, effectively knocking Sam’s arm back and giving both boy’s a gentle shoulder squeeze before gesturing toward Gabe and hurrying to inch her way around the many, compacted tables. Gabe watched her for a minute before he stood, snickering all the while as she did some strange form of ritual dance to avoid bumping into anyone or anything.

It was adorable, and the brothers thought so, too. Gabe moved then, to catch up.

“So, what’s your deal with her?” Jo asked outright. She was buzzed, but not even the warning glower from her mother made her back down. “Last I saw you guys, you were both ready to swear off women.”

“A-ha-ha..” Sam actually laughed at that, his shoulders shaking while Dean nudged his shoulder to quiet down. “Right, well, that was  _ never _ going to happen.. To  _ either  _ of us.”

“CJ is CJ,” Dean offered with a shrug, a bit uncomfortable with the looks he and his brother were getting from the table, but knowing it would be worse if he avoided it altogether. “She doesn’t really have a  _ deal _ . She does what she wants to,  _ when _ she wants to. Anybody questions it and its SOL for them.”

“I’ve noticed,” Pamela chuckled.

Bobby rolled his eyes, tipping back the rest of his beer and standing to get another. “Anybody need anything?”

“I’m good,”s and “No thanks,” were chorused before he moved to grab another beer from the giant ice chest. The party had hardly made a damn dent in the thing.

“Okay, now that Papa Bear is gone, seriously, spill,” Jo demanded. Sam spluttered around the lip of his cup, having switched to punch a while ago and coughing a bit as it went down the wrong tube. Dean looked mildly uncomfortable, and both Ellen and Pam actually leaned forward on their elbows with equal, terrifying Mom expressions. “Well?” Pam pushed. “She doesn't talk to  _ me _ about it. And that’s saying something.” “C’mon boys,” Ellen encouraged, her smile turning a bit daring as she narrowed her eyes, “Indulge us in the little mystery.”

“CJ’s.. something,” Sam sighed, running a hand down his face before he sat up. Dean didn’t look like he would say a word. “She.. She’s brash, and energetic, and she’s always needing to do something. She likes animals and fruit and she laughs about Celine Dion whenever Titanic comes on for some odd reason.”

“Why’s she travelling with you?” Jo sounded more than a little miffed about this, but the jealousy stemmed from several places, so it was hard to tell which one was more pressing. “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘lone wolves’ or whatever-?”

“She kind of..” Sam offered, then trailed off. How did he explain this without saying too much or sounding like a douche? “She kind of wormed her way into the family,” Dean cut in, and Sam was more surprised at the word ‘family’ coming from Dean’s mouth than the fact that he’d uncharacteristically spoken up. Surprising him further, Dean continued. “It’s hard to imagine going on the road without her. She’s like the little angel on our shoulder reminding us that we can’t live off fast-food and gas-station hot dogs every day, keeps our clothes clean and makes sure we act like regular, normal human beings every once in a while.”

“Sounds like a Mom,” Ellen pointed out, seeing the matching, startled expressions on the boy’s faces morph into identical, briefly uncomfortable ones with dashes of disgust. 

It was, ironically, CJ who saved them from further embarrassment, as the music clicked off, and she was once again standing atop the couch arm, Gabe’s arm wrapped around her side with his cheek dangerously close to her hip. Both Sam and Dean watched him like a hawk as his hands held her still, but CJ eventually had their attention as she clicked her fork to her glass again. The quiet rumbled down, and she offered the gathered masses a sweet smile. “I hope everyone is eating their fill. You can take what you like on your way out, too. I purchased plenty of Tupperware for this purpose. Those of you with children will get some deserts I set off to the side in the freezer in smaller containers with ice. I know they’ll be disappointed about missing it, but I made sure there was a bit of everything sweet packed in.”

There were murmured of thanks, and she nodded, before gesturing the tree back behind her to her right. “Now, since it’s just about eleven, I figured it would be a good time to start handing out gifts. We also have White-Elephant Bingo, and Christmas Karaoke after that for those who want to stay for the first hours of Christmas. Anybody got any questions?”

There were more murmurs, but no spoke up, and she shrugged, before grinning, and hopping down to the floor, Gabe catching her in his arms before fixing her hat back on her head. “There you go, Lollipop.” “Thank’s Sweets,” she whispered, pecking his cheek before she knelt down to start sorting. He would hand out the gifts to people as she went along.

“Okay,” Jo amended, seeing the boy’s expressions and pressing again, “If you won’t tell us anything substantial about CJ.. What about the guy? Gabe, right?”

“Him?” Dean actually looked annoyed at the mention, while Sam merely set his jaw and leaned back in his seat so they both had a good view of the tree and the duo kneeling at it. “He’s.. nobody we know.”

“Seriously?” Pam scoffed, her eyebrows raised high as she fixed the Aviators back over her eyes. She looked like a douche bag who wore their sunglasses indoors, but she’d rather not get pelted with holy water every five minutes. “I’m getting lovey-dovey goo-goo eyes from this boy directed solely at  _ her  _ and you’re giving us nothing?”

“We don’t really know him,” Sam amended, frowning, “She talks about him, sometimes..  Says he’s from work..”

“Work?” Ellen repeated.

“CJ’s part of the FBI,” Dean stated, and there was a sliver of pride in his tone that had his irritated eyes softening as he kept his gaze on her green-sweater-covered back. She had glitter in her hair from smacking into a wall earlier, and he couldn’t help but find it ridiculously pretty.  _ She _ looked ridiculously pretty. “Honest-to-God agent. She works files for them, and leads investigations for different teams.”

“No shit, seriously,” Jo perked up, “Like, she’s not fake FBI- but,  _ real _ FBI-?”

“The fact that we even  _ consider  _ this normal table talk should concern me,” Bobby gruffed, finally plopping his rear end into his seat with a sigh. He’d been stopped several times with congratulations and thanks for the party on the way back, and he’d had to repeat, several times, he had absolutely no idea there was ever going to be one. “Sure thing Mr. Kaiser,” Sam chuckled. Bobby shot him a glare, then rolled his eyes. “What’d I miss-?”

“CJ’s handing out presents with that Shurley guy..” Pamela pointed out smoothly, her fingers threaded together and propping her chin up and Gabe seemed to dart from beneath the tree with a box, to a random person, then back again. He didn’t even looked winded. “Not to be rude and all, but.. Are we..  _ completely _ sure.. This guy is human..?”

The table was silent, and the boys blinked slowly as they flicked their eyes to the man handing a box to a pregnant woman with a gentle smile, before turning to go back to CJ with an even warmer one.

“Why do ya’ ask..?” Bobby asked hesitantly, there was obvious reluctance in his voice.

“His aura is closed off,” she murmured, “There’s some sort of block on him. Like CJ has, but his is like it’s erased. CJ’s is like glass, this guy is.. Like clean printer paper.”

“Well,  _ that’s  _ not concerning,” Ellen grumbled, tipping back her shot of whiskey before wiping her mouth the with red cloth napkin. “Well.. as much as I hate to say it.. He’s not doing anything  _ wrong _ ..”

“ _ Yet _ ,” the brothers murmured in tandem, both boys perking up in surprise before sharing similar, knowing looks and returning to their watching.

Five or six packages had been given to everyone around surprisingly, even if only a few people had gone out to get gifts for a handful or more people. And when people actually started to open them, they were surprised to see children’s toys.

Dean actually started laughing when a hunter had gotten a sparkly green hula hoop and a water gun. The majority looked confused, but those in the know, like Garth, perked up with excitement as they pulled out several color-coded charm bags.

“Ah- Heck yeah-!” Garth bellowed, bursting to his feet as he brandished the newest, largest super-soaker the toy store had to offer, “Check it out-! I’ve got my own Holy Water Gun-! Thank you CJ-! This is awesome-!”

“No problem, Garth,” she grinned, “I’d rather you were safe out there. Plus it’s a legal weapon you can carry out in the open.”

There were murmurs of surprise flickering around the room, before the hunters who hadn’t been in the know started to actually laugh. Salt-hoops.. Holy Water Guns.. Charm bags and little pamphlets with FBI contact information if they were ever in a tight spot. Instructions for their own bags, and emergency numbers.

When it got around to their own, along with all the regular gifts, the girls at their table had gotten extra. Ellen had gotten a necklace, a pendant, actually, with a color-changing liquid inside of it that shifted when she put it around her neck. A mood necklace. Jo had gotten knuckle dusters with sigils on the divots, much to her mother’s amusement and displeasure, and Pamela got new shades, and a sexy new top. All the girls had gotten gift certificates to a spa resort for one week, and Ellen had immediately started to plan with Jo on when they were going together. Bobby had gotten an expensive beard trimming kit, a new apron, with the words ‘Kiss the Cook at Your Own Risk, My Daughter is a Psycho’ on the front. He nearly teared up, but kept quiet, finally letting out an actual laugh as he pulled out a little handmade coupon booklet. Breakfast in bed. House deep cleaning. Scrap-yard organizing. And a lot more.

The boys were a different story. 

Dean was given a golden membership card to Busty Asian Beauties.com, which he promptly tucked into his pocket, and an actual issue, signed by the girls.

He didn’t want to ask how she got them to kiss it and sign it specifically to Dean, but at the same time, he  _ really  _ was begging to. There was also a bracelet, made of black leather cords and knotted at the end, the center of it looped in with a charm that read 1967 engraved in silver.

Sam had gotten a full stack of CD’s, eyes perking up immediately at the title before he was quick to turn them around. He didn’t need his brother’s heckling. Further in the small pile, was his own water gun, a subtle grey one, and a holster he could hook through his belt loop. Finally, there was a card, and he was more than a little surprised to see a gift card to Barnes and Noble fall out of it, along with a cheesy christmas card stuck in a green envelope.

Gabe assured her, when there were only a dozen or so presents left, that she should go sit with the table, staring at her in continuous silence when she tried to assure him she had it, and caving when he slowly started to inch his eyebrows up.

He didn’t need to make himself look so fricken cute. He barely changed his facial features, but at the same time, he looked so fricken different.

She plopped herself into her seat, and she was immediately pulled into a tight hug by the elder Winchester, peppering the top of her head in butterfly kisses as he laughed. The smile on his face was bright, and relaxed, and she felt a warm, gentle sort of yearning in her chest as he murmured thanks for the gifts. Sam was next, when she was finally released, and she had been pulled into a sort of noogie-pose before he had pulled her back tightly to his chest and squeezed tight until she had begged for air.

She had been sat down, then, and given a few wrapped gifts from them. Sam and Dean had run to the car for their own, having bought hers while they were out, despite having no idea about the party. They weren’t particularly wrapped, but the brown paper was a step up from the usual plastic bag they prefered. Unlike the ridiculously hallmark-wrapped gifts they’d gotten with sparkling paper and silky ribbons. 

She looked elated, despite the lack of fanfair, and had torn into the package without abandon, her eyes going wide at the gift in her lap before tears touched her eyes, and started leaking out.

Sam and Dean had started almost immediately panicking, but when she had buried her face into the XXL Metallica shirt from Dean, and clutched the framed photo Sam had gotten done for her of the three of them, she started to laugh.

They relaxed, and Dean had held still while she pressed a kiss to his temple, then moved to press a matching one to Sam’s forehead, ending with a tight, warm hug to Bobby when he held out a package wrapped in red paper with a simple green ribbon around it. When she pulled out a new, sky blue apron, and a little card that read  _ Closet _ , she had more than a bit of suspicion. 

When she had come racing back to the table after her investigation, it had been after she’d rushed out to Cleo to grab her sword.

She walked proudly up to the table then, throwing her arms around Bobby and laughing loudly before she twirled in front of the table, showing off the piece on her thigh.

“Is that a sword?” Jo asked, both awed and a little stunned. “You have a sword?”

“Bobby got me a sheath,” she squealed, actually squealed, before doing another twirl in place, the stiff black material barely bumping into her leg as she tapped the silver handle she’d bound in leather. “I can finally carry her around-! This is amazing- thank you-!” She threw herself at him again, wrapping him tightly in a hug as the table started to laugh. Bobby was blushing like a 70’s cherry red mustang.

His glare kept them from commenting, though.

It was a few seconds after that before Gabe had walked back over, a box about the size of a toaster oven in his hands. 

“Sweetheart, finally,” CJ rolled her eyes, pointing to the boxes stacked right in front of his empty seat. He seemed startled by them, like he hadn’t expected any at all, before his face had shifted back into that calm, sweet mask he had when he looked at her when her back stood to him. “You haven’t opened any of yours yet. I want pictures of you opening them.”

He blinked at her quickly, the calm in his expression melting into something a lot warmer, and a lot more open. “Sure thing, Lollipop,” he smiled, then shifted the box in his hands out toward her, “But you’ve got to open mine first.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and shook her head, “Nu-uh. You first. I’ve been waiting all night to see your face. Go open it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her blatant, bossy refusal, then sighed, conceding in a dramatic flourish as he gently set the box on the table in front of her, both Sam and Dean eyeing it with distrust. He plopped into his seat then, eyeing her polaroid camera with a deadpan face, which she promptly took a picture of, before setting out to peel away the wrapper of the first gift.

He was given a T-shirt, in the first one, his lips pressing tightly together as he looked at the press-on design she had clearly drawn herself. 

_ Tricksters Like Candy, But I’m Much Sweeter. _

Another T-shirt, this one reading  _ I invented the platypus. _ With a little cartoon platypus beneath it.

A hoodie, with the words  _ Marvel4Life  _ on the back, the front having the Avenger Loki’s horns over his heart. In the next box was a handmade bracelet, like she had given Dean, but this cord was the color of caramel, and the silver engraving had read  _ Freedom _ . The last gift was a pendent, not quite like Ellen’s, but similar in style as he pulled it around his neck.

The fact that he could immediately  _ feel _ where she was sent a jolt through him hard enough that he almost botched his transformation. When he had shot her an abrupt, startled look, she gave him a small smile, and a shrug, “So you’ll always know when I’m nearby.”

She gave him a tracking pendent. Something to draw him to her.

She knew it bugged him about the blocking, and she did that for him..

When he had moved to push the ruined wrapping into a nearby trashbag, one of many around the tables, another, limp package hit the table with a thud as he pushed the box away.

He opened it quickly, and a smile spread across his mouth at the unopened, giant bag of Hershey’s kisses.

He loved them just a little more than he loved the irritated expressions the Winchesters wore in that exact moment.

“Lollipop,” he murmured, his eyes glittering as he gave her a grin, “You really laid it on heavy this year.. I’m a little nervous if mine will be up to par.”

“I’m having a hard time wondering what could trump a platypus T-shirt,” Jo gave a snort, and the table flicked their eyes to the box in front of the girl. Pamela bit her lip with a deep breath, a smile spreading across her lips as she reached over a hand and pat the boy’s shoulder in firm commendation. “Well, would you look at that? You did good, boy.”

“You saw?” Gabe looked a little surprised at that, but the woman’s deeper sense was a bit hard to miss. “How?”

“I see more than I let on,” she grinned, lowering her glasses and relishing a bit at the way the boy had tensed sharply beneath her firm fingers. “Spooky, huh?”

“A bit..” he murmured, “But I’m more concerned with how you looked into a box.”

“Ease up, Sweetheart,” CJ rolled her eyes, getting to her feet so the box would be at her stomach on the table, her fingers moving to undo what looked like a labyrinth of silken silver ribbon over green paper. “That’s my aunt you’re getting fidgety over.. And holy cheese, what is  _ up _ with with this  _ Maze of the Labyrinth _ ribbon-?”

Trickster, for sure.

“Seriously,” she grumbled, pouting a bit as she pushed away line after line, “How the heck do I open this-? Is there a full piece top or is it- oh.” she stopped then, seeing the removable lid on top, and rolling her eyes, before prying it off, letting the ribbon flutter to the table as the light spread down to illuminate the box’s contents.

She held the lid stiffly in her hands as she stared down, Dean pressing his lips tightly together as Sam slowly got to his feet beside her, moving over her shoulder and peering down, too. His eyes popped open wide, and he blinked quickly as his hands pressed into her shoulders, a small smile twitching across his lips while Dean grew only more confused.

“Well, what is it?” Ellen finally demanded after a good few, long seconds, 

“Name..?” CJ rapsed.

“Casper,” Gabe smiled serenely. He knew those eyes.

“Oh my sweet rolls..” she rasped, her hands shaking as she dropped the lid and hurried to reach into the box, “Oh baby- ooohhhh..” The table perked up quickly as she withdrew what looked like a black ball of fluff from the box, Sam biting his lip beside her as he looked down at the tiny creature. “Casper..  _ Ooohhh _ ..” she whined, pressing the fluff tightly to her chest before shooting her eyes to Dean. “I know you don’t like dogs, Dean, but- please-! Don’t immediately hate him because of his unavoidable species-!”

“God, no..” Dean groaned, throwing his head back with a grimace, “Why..? Why dear God.. Why~?”

“I will hit you,” CJ spoke tonelessly, and he jerked himself up at the glare on her face, “Say it one more time in front of me, around  _ my  _ food, Dean. I dare you.  _ One  _ more time...”

“CJ, easy,” Sam murmured, his hands hovering above her shoulder as she cradled the infant pup to her chest protectively, glaring sharply at Dean with what could only be labeled as a mother’s ire. “I’m sure he meant it in the off-the-hand way..  _ Right Dean _ -?” The last bit had been grit out toward his brother pointedly, and Dean was quick to nod along, his hands raised up to his chest while the female of their trio drilled holes into his soul. 

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Not on Christmas,” CJ groused roughly, tucking her chin in and pressing a soft, fluttering kiss to the side of the sleeping dog’s soft, floppy ear. “Fuck that man. I’m punching him soon.. No offense, Gabe.”

“None taken,” the current raven quipped with a soft scoff.

“What did Dean do-?” Jo sat up straighter, as alarmed as her mother as they flicked their eyes between the possibly unstable woman and Dean, who was gradually relaxing, his eyes staring toward the kitchen.  _ Pie.. _

“She means God,” Sam amended, the blank expressions on the faces of the rest of the table making him physically wince. “Yeah, she’s got an..  _ Active _ .. Imagination..”

“Fuck off,” CJ quipped. “For that comment, you don’t get to pet Casper for two days.”

“What-?” The way Sam had looked immediately wounded made his eyes resemble the canine’s in her arms. Though his were aiming his sad-thoughts at her. “But.. Why-?”

“Because you disrespected me in front of my child,” she narrowed her eyes at him, clutching Casper closer to her chin and turning her torso away ever so slightly. “Calling it an active imagination-  _ where do you get the nerve-? _ ”

“Oh great,” Dean groaned under his breath, “She’s already imprinted.”

“Did you say something Dean?” CJ asked sweetly.

“ _ Nope _ .”

“Good.”

* * *

The house was a mess of glitter, fake snow and half-torn down streamers, but four of the five people still in it were more preoccupied with the visions of their beds than with the thought of clean-up, though CJ promised immediately she would get to it on the twenty sixth.

She had lied sprawled out on the couch, face first against the thick fabric while Casper curled up asleep along her spine. She’d goaded Sam and Dean into taking her bedroom, and a pull-out futon was accessible via a drawer beneath her bed frame. 

When the brother’s had shared simultaneous knowing looks at the sight of Gabe just sitting in a chair, watching over the girl and the puppy sleep, they grimaced, and Dean cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels as the man flicked his eyes up to the brothers.

“Well, this has been  _ great _ ,” Dean laid it on thick, his eyebrows inching higher at the completely at ease expression the guest had. “But it’s getting pretty late.. Or should I say early..? Anyway, did you stop by a motel on your way here?”

“No,” Gabe deadpanned, jerking his chin toward CJ calmly, “She offered to let me sleep on the couch. She’s got that one, I'm fine with a chair.”

“Actually, we were just about to put her to bed,” Sam insert quickly, his voice a bit short and his smile tight.

This was CJ’s friend..

The one she always snuck off to see and spend time with..

The work buddy who took her on amazing dates..

_ They felt equally justified in their suspicion and unease. _

* * *

CJ woke up with a jaw popping yawn. The visions she had had the night before were of the..  _ Soulless Sam _ variety..

Around her waist was a slim, but toned arm, long enough that it was wrapped around her body and holding her firmly in place. Against her back, someone tall, warm and hard was curled around her protectively, the scent of cedar wood, shampoo and an undertone of books leading her to pinpoint Sam.

_ Spooning her in her bed.. _

She almost screamed a little, having just seen Sam try to behead Bobby with an ax, but calming, she took a deep breath, and relaxed again.

Sam had a soul.

Sam was fine.

Where was Dean-?

_ And where in the hell was Gabriel..? _

“Rise and shine~!”

She actually screamed a little as she jolted from her bed, glaring at the figure in the door in a pair of sweatpants and wearing the sweatshirt she had given him for Christmas. The boys were no better, Sam scrambling up with a hard look on his face, Dean doing the same from the pull-out bed from beneath her actual bed. Both boys looked high-strung and annoyed by the person immediately, unnerved by the lack of weapons in their hands and the person they didn’t quite know giving their female companion a sultry smile. 

“It’s noon, Lollipop. Thought I’d make you some brunch.”

“It’s been nine hours..” CJ whispered, sighing heavily before she fell back onto her bed with a slight bounce, Enochian rolling off of her tongue in a whine, “ _ Screw me, why..? _ ”

“Watch that tongue of yours,” Gabe clucked his in disapproval, “You’ll give me ideas.”

“What the Hell..?” Dean groaned, clutching his head as it pounded and glaring at the man sharply, “What are you still doing here..? And how did you understand her?”

“Enochian  _ is _ a language,” the man pointed out calmly, “Now if you’ll  _ excuse _ me.. I’m going to go let  _ your dog _ have  _ your share _ of the breakfast I made  _ for you-” _

CJ was out of her bed in an instant and practically throwing herself into her closet. The boys watched as the man leaned against the doorframe calmly, eyeing the doors with a raised brow as thumps and curses came from inside, before CJ toppled out, shutting the doors again and moving to hurry out of the room.

Not without pausing to press a kiss to the man’s cheek, of course.

“Mommy’s coming, Casper-!” she sang, practically riding down the stair railing with a giggle. 

Sam, Dean and Gabe stood in silence for a moment, before the raven snorted, rolled his eyes, and walked away.

The boys got annoyed again.

_ This _ was the guy CJ was going out with-?

“She’s not..  _ In a relationship _ with him, right?” Dean asked quietly, just saying the words had him wishing he could scrub them from his mouth with high-quality bourbon.

“Just dates,” Sam grumbled, frowning as he ran a hand through his messily perfect hair, instantly correcting it back to tamed. “She hasn’t said anything about it, if they are.”

“Are we gonna have to ask,” Dean grimaced.

“God, I hope not,” Sam muttered.

* * *

The boys came down, a few minutes later, to see CJ holding the puppy above her head, lying with her back on the floor of the clean living room.

“What the Hell?” Dean muttered.

The only thing left standing was the tree, but the ornaments were long gone, snow swept up and not a dot of glitter remained.

“I put away some stuff,” Gabe droned from the kitchen, where he had donned a blue apron with the words ‘Sweet as Candy’ on the front, CJ’s old apron, as he waved a spatula at them dismissively. “Figured you’d be too hungover for much today.”

“Merry Christmas,” CJ greeted them brightly, “I know we toasted earlier this morning, but Merry Christmas.”

The boys took in the light blue, soft calf-length dress she’d pulled on, the short, messy brown hair flying around her head and the sweet, hopeful expression on her face.

“Merry Christmas,” Dean smiled. Sam echoing it with him almost in sync. They shared a look, then a snort, shaking their heads before they moved to the table.

Hopefully CJ’s friend hadn’t tried to poison them.

* * *

Well, that may explain how CJ was such a good cook..

Dean let out a burp, and let his head loll back on the couch.

_ Or vice versa. _

“Good huh?” Gabe smiled, giving the younger Winchester a playful look at his uncomfortable squirm, “CJ’s the only person I’ve ever actually cooked for.”

“I’m stuffed,” Dean groaned, “Worse than last night.. I can’t move..”

“Mmm..” CJ moaned, cuddling up to the elder’s side with an expression of bliss on her face, “I forgot you carried around a waffle iron for me..”

“Waffles..” Dean moaned, a sweet look on his face before he winced, and pulled CJ tighter to his side, “Restrain me next time, would you? I should have stopped at four..”

“Will do,” she whispered.

Sam didn’t even look at the two curled up tightly on the couch.

Fortunately, CJ had “forgotten” about the two-day ban on Casper, and he was discreetly feeding the small pup bits of bacon from his plate while he let him nestle into his thigh on the seat, tucked into the chair and delightfully snug.

“Jeez, Sugar, you should cut back a bit, you do this every time,” Gabe tut, shaking his head at her as he walked over. Dean shot him a bit of a glare, but he was much too full to be incredibly angry.

That guy was an amazing cook.

“Stop making waffles, then,” CJ grumbled, not really meaning it, but a whine to her voice nonetheless, “Ugh.. I feel fat.. Too much food in two days..”

“You’re not fat,” Dean muttered immediately, offhanded and relaxed. He didn’t even look like he had to think about it. “You’re a twig. Eat more when it comes time for dinner.”

“You can say that because you get to work out while you work, you burn off calories like fucking mad.. It’s ridiculous and I’m jealous..”

“You’re too thin, woman, I can literally throw you over my shoulder with one hand. That’s concerning.”

“I have issues with my weight Dean, I’m literally just now getting into the habit of stopping in the fruit aisle.”

“Oh right, the fruit allergy thing,” Sam murmured, rubbing his fingers gently between the pup’s ears as he snored quietly.

_ So frickin’ cute.. _

“Artificial only gets you so far,” CJ shrugged, tucking her head down with a grunt and smiling as she smelt the faint trace of gunsmoke, aftershave and Dean’s personal cologne. A glance at his wrist showed him wearing the bracelet she’d given him. Right under his watch.

Sam hummed, reluctantly getting to his feet after a glance at the syrup on his plate. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“So,” Gabe asked slowly, slurring along the word as he popped himself onto the couch right beside CJ, earning himself a brief glare from Dean and a sleepy-eyed look from his partner in dubiousness. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” she murmured, sniffing a little as she brought herself to sit up straight. Dean looked a little annoyed at having to adjust his arm around the empty space she had left behind. “I should get some things for Casper.. You know, leash, collar, carriers.. Car supplies.. I’m going to need to sign up for training classes.” There was a strange look that flickered across the angel’s face, and CJ paused a second before continuing, “Not to mention food, sweaters and toys.”

“You’re putting sweaters on your dog,” Dean grimaced, shooting her a deadpan stare. “Seriously? Is he going to ride around in your purse, too?”

“It’s cold, Dean,” she frowned, “I don’t want him to get sick on the road and die in a motel room if we’re out. Meaning for the next few months, I’m going to be babying him. Deal with it. He’s practically nursing still.”

“Aah,” he nodded. “I got it.”

“Good,” she smiled, seeing his pensive stare and waving a single hand in a dismissive gesture. “He won’t step a paw into your car, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing you might have to deal with is the occasional stray hair on Sam’s clothes.”

“Ugh..” Dean grumbled, “Fine..”

CJ got up from her perch and swooped over to Sam’s abandoned chair, pulling the puppy to her chest and giggling softly when he started to lick her chin and cheek. “Yes, yes, Casper. I love you very, very much.”

“Well, he certainly loves  _ you _ ,” Gabe drawled, humming a bit at the end before he tilted his head, “Almost as much as  _ I _ do..” “Oh hush, ya’ flirt,” she gave a snort, and cocked her hip at him before returning to her puppy affections, “Is Gabe being silly, Casper-? Yes he is.. He really is, isn’t he..?” She peppered his face with little kisses before tucking him under her chin again, humming softly as she twirled a bit in place, her skirt swishing around her knees. 

“ _ Imprint _ was right,” Gabe murmured.

“You say something, Gabe?”

“ _ Nope _ .”

“Good.”


	82. Lemon Drops

“This is a bad idea, CJ,” the brunette whispered to herself in the safety of her ride. The boys were gone on a distant job, and she was sitting outside of a certain, important warehouse in the dead of night. It wasn’t even New Years, yet.. “This is a stupid..  _ Stupid  _ idea.. You should drive away, now.. Pretend you don’t know.. Save yourself a possible stabbing..”

There was a sniffle behind her, and she looked back in the seat to see her newest companion hunkered in a little alcove she’d shaped out of blankets, a carrier and soft toys behind her seat and at the foot of the chair behind her, and he was looking up at her with big, black eyes of sadness.

_...Fuck it, she would go in. _

“Fine, I’ll go in,” she whispered, leaning back and slumping down so her chin was on the arm rest with a grumble, watching the puppy grumble a little before squirming to sit up and lick the exposed flesh that he could reach, mainly her chin and the tips of her fingers. “But you’re staying here.. I don’t want you in danger, pumpkin..”

He snuggled up to her hand, and she pet him lovingly. 

Nine weeks old.

* * *

“Winchester and Winchester,” the low, relaxed voice made both men, whom had entered the motel room with slight smiles, still in the afterglow of a successful hunt and Christmas just the day before last, jumped a little in startled confusion as their bags hit the floor.

_ So much food.. _

“Oh, come  _ on _ ,” Dean groaned.

“You are needed,” Uriel quipped.

“ _ Needed _ ,” Dean repeated slowly, lifting up a hand to drag it down his face, before shaking it out roughly, “We just got  _ back  _ from needed..”

“Now, you mind your tone with me,” Uriel whispered low, mocking.

“No,  _ you  _ mind your damned tone with  _ us _ ,” Dean snapped. He was getting bad-feely vibes with this guy before, but they were blasting warning bells now. Cas stood back toward one of the beds in the corner of the room, but he’d neither made a move to acknowledge them, nor seemed to notice them in any way at all.

“We just saved your seal the other night,” Sam protested, “What could you possibly need right now-?”

“Added on to that,” Dean added quickly, his tone still a bit riled up. His fingers itched for something to kill this junkless asshole, “If you wouldn’t mind taking a break from pushing us around like chess pieces for five minutes, that’d be  _ great _ .”

“We raised you out of Hell for  _ our _ purposes,” Uriel drawled.

“Yeah and what were those again?” Dean egged him on, face screwing up in barely contained disgust and absolute anger. “What  _ exactly  _ do you want from me-?”

Sam had told him about Pamela nearly dying.

_ CJ had prevented that. _

“Start with gratitude,” Uriel straightened up, ever so slightly.

“Dean, we know this is difficult to understand,” Castiel could see the flaring temper and rage behind the righteous man’s eyes, and he was quick to insert, gaining the brother’s attention entirely before Uriel had cut him off. “And  _ we.. _ ” The boys eyes slid back to the bald man slowly, anger simmering, “.. _ don’t _ ..care.”

Neither brother had missed the sudden flare of dominance, the shift in order or the way Castiel had immediately turned back into his silent musing with the wall opposite to him.

It set Dean on edge.

“Now, seven angels have been killed,  _ all  _ of them from our garrison, the last one was killed  _ tonight _ .” Uriel stated slowly.

“Demons?” Dean quipped. It was always demons, wasn’t it-?”

Uriel tipped his head, but didn’t say a word.

“How they doin’ it?” Dean asked.

“We don’t know,” Uriel denied, still calm and in control. Sam was weary of the man’s sudden control in anything, usually he was foaming at the mouth, ready to insult them. 

“I’m sorry,” the tall brunette cut in, “But what do you want  _ us  _ to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels? Has to be out of our league, right?”

A ringing cut into the silence, and Dean held up his hand as the angel opened his mouth, pulling the phone from his pocket at the familiar ringtone as putting it up to his ear without hesitation. “Hello there, you’ve reached Texas Crematorium, you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. How can I direct your call-?”

“ _ I’d like to place an order for four, roasted wings, preferably in a tawny color, but if you could char them to a crisp, I’d be golden _ .”

Uriel twitched, and a sound not unlike a growl echoed through his throat, Castiel looked, for half a second, scandalized. Sam hadn’t heard. “What-?”

“CJ..” Dean breathed, taking his time to calm himself before he bit harshly on his bottom lip, “There a reason you’re calling..?”

“ _ Put me on speaker _ .”

“Okay..” he murmured, raising his eyebrows at his brother before holding out the phone and clicking the call button again. “There you are.”

“ _ Good _ ,” CJ’s voice echoed in the room, and it suddenly turned bright and happy, “ _ Castiel- _ !  _ Hi _ ~! _ I miss you _ ~! _ I hope to see you soon _ ~!  _ I’m at an undisclosed location, that being said.. Uriel, smite me. If you lay one hand on Dean, I am beating the shit out of you _ .”

Her tone to Castiel had been bright and inviting, but the ending had come short, and rather harsh. “How dare you,” Uriel spoke up, only for the voice to continue, “- _ shut up. If Dean is hurt.. If I walk in on your fucking screw up.. I will  _ **_kill_ ** _ you.. Do you understand _ ..?”

“You have a lot of  _ nerve _ , chimp,” Uriel spit.

“ _ Just enough to get me by, day-to-day _ ,” the voice echoed calmly, “ _ I called to tell you boys I’m on standby for a personal mission. I hope you understand why I can't be there with you right now _ .”

“It’s alright CJ,” Sam sighed, “It’s probably.. Safer, that you stay away, anyhow..”

“ _ Yeah, yeah, Lucky. Not like I’m sitting pretty right now, either, but, it is what is it.” _

“Need anything else?” Dean asked calmly.

“ _ Did you eat dinner _ ?” CJ asked slowly. There was a lilt to her voice similar to Ellen’s and it had both boys grimacing at the ‘mother’ reminder. 

“Yes, we did,” Dean grumbled.

“ _ Good _ ,” CJ answered,  _ “I gotta go. Stay safe, don’t make stupid decisions, look both ways before you cross the street, and if you get the opportunity, please give me a ring when the shitstorm is over _ .”

“Will do,” Dean echoed. “Right back at you. Stay safe.”

“ _ Yes, sir, Cowboy, _ ” she giggled. “ _ Bye Lucky. By Tippens _ ~!  _ Fuck off Uriel, CJ out. _ ”

The phone cut off with a chirp, and the room was held in bated breath.

“Jesus,” Sam couldn’t help but convey his exhale with a roll of his eyes. 

Dean was fighting off a smirk.

* * *

CJ chewed slowly as she perched on the edge of the barstool. The table she was sat at was nothing more than a grey-painted piece of wood held up by cinder blocks, but it did it’s job well enough that she could peacefully enjoy her meal for a few minutes. She had made the call to Dean in this very chair, and judging by the current tick of her watch, it would only be a few more seconds. She slowly reached over, and picked up the forty ounce to-go soda, sipping at it slowly as a burst of wind swept through the room, and there were three more bodies inside.

“What the hell-!” Dean had rounded on the bald angel with a look of absolute malice, but when he had caught sight of something over dickless-wonder’s shoulder, he’d tensed, stopped, and parted his lips in sudden, silent confusion.

CJ set down her cup slowly, and reached for her subway bags, slowly peeling away the wrapper and bringing it to her mouth for a hefty bite.

“CJ-” he’d barely breathed the name before Uriel had turned around sharply with a sudden, furious intensity, Cas at Dean’s side with more shock than anything else.

“You-” Uriel nearly spit, but the way the girl held up a finger for him to pause didn’t deter him, “How did you  _ get _ here-?”

She continued to chew slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Dean’s before she swallowed, reached for a napkin, and wiped her face. She took a breath, making sure her throat was clear, before shrugging her shoulders, and holding out one of the cookies she’d gotten with her meal. “Lockpick. Cookie, Dean?”

“Why are you here-?” Dean asked quietly, he’d had a brief idea of what Uriel was demanding of him, but seeing CJ here-

“I’m here to help you,” she shrugged, licking her lips for a stray smear of mayo after she’d taken another bite, before rolling the last of her sandwich back into the wrapper and putting it back inside the slim bag. She took another loud, relaxed pull of her drink, before setting it down with a thunk, and dusting her hands in the air, clearing them of possible crumbs. “Also, I want to witness some stuff. And, what better way to do that than picking locks and sitting patiently in wait for Dickless Wonder, the cinnamon-roll-kitten and the righteous man like Dr Evil from Austin Powers, minus the pinkie thing and the demand for a ridiculous amount of money. My midget's in the car.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas intoned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over the woman with a slow, burning confusion and intensity. “You have a small person in your vehicle-”

“ _ Dean _ , your husband is being cute again~ Tell him to hold off his comments until the end of the presentation, please and thank you.”

“Cas is not my-”

“Keep denying it, see where the fandom goes,” CJ waved off his lost, confused face. 

“Why are you  _ here _ -?!” Uriel demanded, nearly spitting her in the face when he’d gotten close enough to yell at her directly, his eyes burning in a furious fire and his wings arching in a primal, threatening way. “ _ How _ did you know to be here-?!”

“I’m the moral support,” she shifted her weight on her feet, rolling back on the balls of her heels and giving him a cheeky smile, ignoring the tawny feathers rustling and shaking in his rage. “ _ You _ want him to torture Alastair,  _ I _ don’t want him to  _ break _ . It’s a win-win. Or.. are you  _ not _ concerned about the mental capabilities of your supposed  _ weapon _ ?”

Her words had gone from cheeky to cold, and Dean felt his chest tighten as he strode forward and gripped her arm, hauling her away from Uriel and backing her into a far corner. The angel dicks could hear him easilly, he understood, but he needed her undivided attention. “What are you doing?” He’d practically wrestled her into a corner, his eyes creased in panic and fear and anger, emotions flicking from one to the next without so much as a pause as he held tightly to her upper arms, making sure she was watching him fully. “You need to leave, what they’re asking me-”

“Will crack you,” CJ cut him off softly. “It will crack you, I  _ know _ . But neither of us really have a choice.. like Uriel said.. Who’s asking?”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes as he bent his head, feeling warm skin touch beneath his temple and soft hair brush his face.

He inhaled slowly, his fingers flexing along the comforting purple flannel, taking in the scent of chocolate, flowers and something musky he could swear was his own hair soap. 

“Did you nick my shampoo?” he asked idly, feeling the muscles along his back loosen slowly when her arms had wound behind him, her fingers lacing together as she stepped closer to him and tucked herself into the folds of his arms, his head lifting until his chin was buried in a mess of brown wisps and half-formed curls. 

“Maybe,” she whispered, the word muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

He huffed, closing his eyes and curling his fists into the back of her stupid hooded vest, gritting his teeth as he clutched her tighter.

_ Closer _ .

“Do I have to do this?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer for a while, and he felt her shudder a moment before she gave a heavy sniff, casually fixing her hair as she subtly scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve.

“Yes.”

Dean took a deep breath in, and made to move, but his arm was caught, and he held himself absolutely still.

“But you don’t have to do it alone.”

It felt like the glass taped up together like an old mirror, the glass that represented his world, having shattered and been stomped on by psychotic assholes, had gradually started to piece itself back together, the tape worn down, but still miraculously holding the pieces together once more.

“I don’t want you to,” he stated quietly.

“I know.”

She knew a lot of things, apparently.

“I want you to be out here.”

“But I won’t be.”

Of course she wouldn’t.

Dean swallowed thickly, took a deep breath in, and let it out in a heavy huff of air, blowing the bangs from her face before they settled back down.

He had a half-formed thought to tangle his fingers into her messy brown mane. 

“This won’t be pretty,” Dean stated a final time, his voice hardly above the whisper of a breath.

“When is it, ever?” CJ asked with a weak, crooked smile, lacing their fingers together as she pulled back, “Come on.. Castiel made this trap himself.. I want to take pictures so we can make more of them later.”

“You are insane,” Dean sighed, his feet following her lead without resistance as she lead him to a door with a small square window at his eye-level, revealing the next room for him to see.

CJ actually had to stand on her tiptoes and even then she barely was able to look inside.

He didn’t say a word as he lifted her up several inches by her waist, his eyes already locked on the figure inside of the Jewish star and the chalk intricately and robotically lining the floor.

It was creepy how smooth and perfect the lines were.

Chained to the star with iron shackles was none other than the man he’d seen swept away in a blast of light several nights back.There were no other items in the room. No tables or chairs, no weapons and no form of window from where he could see through that small pane of glass. 

“This devil’s trap is old Enochian,” Castiel’s voice cut into the duo’s thoughts, and CJ curled her fingers into Dean’s jacket sleeve when he’d dropped her to her feet once more. “He’s bound completely.”

_ I can’t do this, _ Dean’s fingers tightened around CJ’s flannel and he tugged her sharply away from the door where he could see the demon writhing in his restraints. “Fascinating.” He turned CJ sharply around, and started pushing her in the opposite direction.  _ Get her away from it, far away- _ “Where’s the door?”

“Where are you going?” He was several paces away in an instant, but Castiel’s voice cut into his task of pushing CJ further away _ awayaway _ -

“Hitching back to Cheyenne, thank you very much,” Dean called gruffly, snatching up CJ’s bag on the table as he moved to pass Uriel and shoving it into the female’s arms. She was moving along with him silently, her face a mask of calm indifference as he thrust the bag into her chest and grabbed her arm once more, holding tight. Uriel appeared before him an instant after they’d passed, and he jerked to a stop, shoving the brunette behind him but keeping tight hold of her sleeve.

“Angels are dying, boy,” Uriel stated in a calm, chastising tone. He’d heard well enough of what the woman had said to him, and was more than a little surprised that he’d not listened to her, but he did well not to show it.

“Everybody’s dying these days,” Dean shot back without hesitation, his voice raspy and tight and  _ CJreallyshouldn’tbeheregetheroutgetherawayfrom- _ “And,  _ hey _ , I get it. You’re all-powerful. You can make me do whatever you want,” he turned his head slightly as he continued, raising his voice with every word as he turned his glare to Castiel, “But you  _ can’t  _ **_make_ ** _ me do this-! _ ”

“This is too much to ask,” Castiel looked toward the righteous man and the girl that tagged along, spinning on the heel of his polished black shoes and striding forward, toward the two humans. “I know. But we have to ask it.”

Dean’s fingers clenched into her shirt, and she felt him tense and relax behind her, not daring to shift her weight or move quick enough to garner his guard snapping up. 

“I want to talk to Cas..  _ alone _ ,” Dean turned his eyes to Uriel, then seeing the unamused, but thoughtful expression on the man’s face as he watched the young woman and almost tearing the fabric as he tugged her closer.

Uriel took a moment to drag his eyes away from the girl and back to Dean, flicking his eyes to Castiel a moment as he spoke. “I think I’ll go seek..” his eyes flicked to Dean, and consequently, the girl hovering behind him, “..revelation. We might have some further orders.”

“Well, get some doughnuts while you’re out,” Dean gave him a sardonic nod.

Uriel actually started laughing, in a condescending way, though CJ could also tell he was legitimately amused by the human male’s gall. “Ah, this one just won’t  _ quit _ , will he? I think I’m starting to like you, boy.”

“Don’t forget the sprinkles,” CJ drew the man’s hard eyes and easy smile back to herself, giving him an expression that bordered on lethal. “And the glazed. Glazed  _ with _ sprinkles, if they have it.”

Uriel laughed again, but it was drier this time, giving her the full brunt of his sarcasm. “I’ll do that.”

He disappeared in a whirl of feathers the instant she’d started struggling to pull off her boot.

Dean hauled her back up by the scruff of her vest instinctively, and she hung with her weight on her tiptoes as she gave him a pout, arms crossed sharply over her chest.

“You guys don’t walk enough, you’re gonna get flabby,” Dean shook his head as he turned to Castiel, as a weak attempt to break the ice settled around them. The precious cinnamon roll looked confused, tilting his head ever so slightly while his eyes squinted at their dynamic. When he didn’t make any attempt to laugh or smile, Dean let out a half-hearted chuckle and set CJ back on her own two feet. “You know, I’m starting to think junkless has a better sense of humor than you do.”

“Uriel’s the funniest angel in the Garrison,” Castiel tilted his head back, his tone monotonous in it’s insistency, “Ask anyone.”

“I personally like Balthazar more,” CJ insert quickly, “He’s much more funny..”

“You’ve met Balthazar,” Castiel looked confused.

“Not yet,” she grinned.

Cas didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t push it, either.

“What’s goin’ on, Cas?” Dean asked quietly. He walked up to the angel after a pause, his face almost stoney. “Since when does  _ Uriel _ put a leash on  _ you _ ?”

CJ watched as Castiel’s wings tucked back and down. He face was expressionless but Dean’s words had driven hard into his self esteem. “My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.”

“Your sympathies?” Dean repeated.

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge,” Cas rattled off tonelessly. “You. They feel I’ve begun to express emotions; the doorways to doubt.. This can impair my judgement.” He turned a bit, leaning back against the table as he looked over to the poorly painted wall.

“Look him in the eye when you act like a prick,” CJ snapped.

The men shot their eyes to her quickly, seeing the way she was examining a cookie between her fingers, leaning up casually against the table with her legs at an angle. “I’m not going to put up with it, Dean. He shouldn’t be asking this of you.  _ At all _ . But he is. So  _ I’m  _ here.”

Dean nodded, chewing on the inner lining of his lip as his anger boiled.

His only chance of talking himself,  _ CJ _ , out of this, was convincing Castiel that this was an astronomical mistake.

He took a deep breath in, and started to walk forward, past Cas and just close enough to the dreaded door to see the bound in chains figure through the window. “Well you can tell  _ Uriel _ , or  _ whoever.. _ You do not want me doing this,  _ trust me _ .”

CJ slid away from the table, leaving behind her meal and her bag as she carefully walked up to Dean, tugging on his wrist until she could clasp both of her cool hands around his clenched, warm ones.

“ _ Want _ it, no,” Castiel denied solemnly. He didn’t even give the man a real look. “But I’ve been told we need it.”

“You ask me to open that door and  _ walk _ through it.. you will  _ not _ like what walks back out,” Dean gave him a final, rasped warning. His palm opened, and his fingers curled tightly around the pale fingers keeping him grounded.

“For what it’s worth,” Castiel’s voice carried over cooly, and CJ clenched her jaw as she set her shoulders, “I would give anything, not to have you do this.”

“So absolutely nothing,” CJ muttered with a dry laugh.

Dean swallowed, closed his eyes and flexed his fingers around his companions hand.

“I need tools.”

“These actually really hurt, you know,” CJ dawdled beside Dean as he set the cloth over the slanted pile of objects. Presentation was a fourth of the work. She was fiddling with the handle of her sword, swiping it through the air much like a fencing lance. She had taken fencing, once, with her older brother. Seems she hadn’t lost the skill.

“It’s a sword,” Dean chuckled, his eyes eerily blank and his smile not so much as reaching his nose. “I would think it would hurt.”

“Yeah, but it’s a  _ Holy _ sword,” CJ insisted, giving him a smile as she nudged his side. “Stick ‘im in the shin with it.”

Dean burst out laughing, tucking his head down as he gripped the side of the covered cart.

His laughter was dry, but it was honest, and she bit her lip in pain as she felt the rolling waves of self-loathing echo across his skin.

“When this is all over, I’m making you a nice apple pie,” CJ declared suddenly, seeing the small, strained smile on his mouth and walking over to tuck herself beneath his arm. Her hug was tight, but he didn’t move too much from the force, merely looping his arm behind her back and crushing her to his chest while he waited for Castiel to get back with the salt he asked for.

“Will there be ice cream?” Dean asked quietly.

“If you want it.”

There was a flap of wings, and Dean looked up to see the wingless angel striding over to them with a blank face and a drawstring bag of salt.

There were no more words exchanged, and CJ slowly pulled back to allow Dean to tuck it carefully under the sheet while she put up her hood.

Dean’s feet were heavy in their measured thumps, the squeaking of the cart’s wheels almost drowned out completely by the creak of the ancient, rusted door.

Castiel disappeared from their view as it shut loudly behind them.

“Heaven.. I’m in Heaven..”

She followed Dean inside slowly, her feet hushed against the cement floor as she walked around the elaborate circle until she reached the corner of the room. She paused, taking one look at the pipe directly above the intricate trap as the low, haunting singing began lifting into something more vibrant and choked, but entertained.

“ _ And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak~! I seem to find the happiness I seek~!” _ CJ ignored him completely as she stripped off her belt, putting the plumbing tape she’d packed into her mouth and the grocery sacks bunched up in her pocket, planning on using the belt Mulan-style to climb up the sturdy pipe.

“ _ When we’re out together, and dancing- cheek to cheek-”  _ He coughed then, sounding choked up as he struggled to catch his breath against the faintly burning chains. Dean was dragging the cloth off of the small table, allowing Alastair a front-seat view of the main course.

He started laughing, dry and almost whispery at first before it developed into theatrically embarrassed coughs. “I-I’m sorry,  _ mhm _ , ngh, this is a  _ very _ , mgh, serious, very emotional situation for you.. I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just that- I  _ mean _ \- are they  _ serious _ ?”

“Funny, I was about to ask the same thing about  _ you _ ,” CJ murmured, making the demon try in vain to crane his neck to see her. She was just beginning to mount the pipe, working on the first of the potentially leaking creases. “Why not send Asmodeus, oh,  _ wait-  _ a Prince of hell wouldn’t really make the cut for your guys’ deplorable budget, huh?”

“You..  _ really _ like pressing buttons,  _ huh _ ?” Alastair drawled.

“One of my many talents,” she sniffed.

One down.. Four to go..

There was a drag of silence, while CJ ripped pieces of tape and plastic and Alastair dragged his eyes back forward to meet Dean’s stoney expression.

“You get one chance,” Dean murmured. His eyes were like ice and fire, making a chill run directly up CJ’s spine. “One.” Alistair cooed in amusement, but Dean wasn’t done. “Tell me who is killing the angels. I want a name.”

“Oh? You think I’ll.. see all your scary  _ toys _ an’.. Spill my guts?”

“Oh, you’ll spill your guts, one way or another,” Dean murmured. “I just didn’t want to ruin my shoes.”

“I’ll clean them for you, darling,” CJ chuckled softly. “Just give me a second, I’ll make sure his host is already dead.”

Two down, three to go.

Alastair hummed in understanding, looking down toward Dean’s shoes briefly before the elder Winchester had officially began.

“Now, answer the question.”

“Or what, you’ll work me over?” Alastair sassed.

Three down, two to go.

“But then, maybe.. You don’t want to?” Alastair asked in a lower, dark tone. “Maybe.. You’re too scared to..”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dean asked in a casual, detached way.

“Not entirely,” Alastair spit, CJ could almost feel his faint, lingering desperation as he recognized the gleam in Dean’s eyes. “You left a part of yourself back in the  _ pit _ .. Let’s see if we can.. Get the two of you back together again.. Shall we?”

“You’re going to be disappointed,” Dean murmured, hands behind his back as he turned on his heel and strolled casually to the table full of trinkets.

“You have not disappointed me so far,” Alastair murmured. Dean began sifting through the tools, as calm as he would be sorting through a rack of magazines. It worried CJ, but she could hold her tongue for a few more seconds. “C’mon,” Alastar goaded, and CJ wondered about the demon’s mental health for a moment before she remembered that he likely didn’t know she was ‘special’. “You gotta want a little  _ payback _ for  _ everything _ I did to you, for all the  _ pokes _ and  _ prods. _ . No?”

“I wouldn’t poke the bear,” CJ called down, clinging to the top of the pipe with her thighs and drawing attention to herself a final time, “I mean.. You’re pretty much cattle right now.. And I can smell his bloodlust.. You’re not really helping your situation.”

“Do you have a smart quip for everything?” Alastair asked in a rather curious, light tone. She could almost  _ hear _ the gears grinding in Dean’s head as he picked up the handle of a rusted machete.  _ He was pissed. _

“Most of the time,” CJ called back.  _ Four down, one to go. _

_ Last one. _

She used two bags this time, as well as twice the amount of tape, making sure it was completely sealed before she began shimmying down the pipe. There was rust and gunk staining her clothes, but she could honestly care less at this point.

“Then.. how about..” Alastair paused, and CJ felt her heart stop in her throat as the deja vu hit her clean in the gut, “for all the things I did to your  _ daddy _ ?”

Dean slowly lifted his head, and CJ carefully inched her way back down to the floor and moved to get into her bag.


End file.
